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THE FEELINGS OF MAN 



THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

Their Nature, Function and Interpretation 



By 

NATHAN A. HARVEY 

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State Normal College, Ypsilanti, Michigan 




BALTIMORE 

WARWICK & YORK, Inc. 

1914 



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Copyright, 1914 
By WARWICK & YORK, Inc. 



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CONTENTS. 

Preface vii 

Chapter I. 
Meaning of the Terms 1 

Chapter II. 
Theories of Feeling 13 

Chapter III. 
The Data 27 

Chapter IV. 
The Hypothesis 45 

Chapter V. 
The Expression of Feeling 61 

Chapter VI. 
The Properties of Feeling 81 

Chapter VII. 
The Classification of Feelings 105 

Chapter VIII. 
The Problem of Esthetics 125 

Chapter IX. 
The Relation of Feeling to Intellect 141 

Chapter X. 
The Relation of Feeling to Consciousness . . . 157 

v 



VI CONTENTS. 

Chapter XI. 
The Relation of Feeling to Memory 179 

Chapter XII. 
The Relation of Feeling to Attention 193 

Chapter XIII. 
The Relation of Feeling to Will 211 

Chapter XIV. 
The Relation of Feeling to the Ego 227 

Chapter XV. 
Mental Ontogeny 243 

Chapter XVI. 

Feeling as Motive 259 

Index 273 



PREFACE. 

The New Psychology is distinguished from the Old 
especially by the greater emphasis it is inclined to lay 
upon physiological processes. The past twenty or thirty 
years have seen greater progress in the development of 
psychology than has been made before since 1691, when 
Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding was pub- 
lished. This progress has been accomplished largely by 
the study of physiological changes as they are associated 
with psychological processes. But the physiology is still 
physiology, and the psychology is still psychology, and no 
thorough amalgamation of the two series of processes has 
yet been successfully accomplished. 

In the present book an attempt is made to bring about 
a closer union of the two series of phenomena than is 
ordinarily undertaken. The doctrine of parallelism, or 
correspondence, is invoked to furnish a tentative justifi- 
cation for an interpretation of mental processes in physi- 
ological terms. 

It must be recognized that the doctrine of parallelism 
asserts no finality, but represents rather an armistice be- 
tween two hostile philosophical camps. Psychology can 
well afford to assume this position which the doctrine of 
parallelism represents, for it professedly deals with 
phenomena, and not with ultimate finalities. 

The plan of the book demands the postulation of a 
physiological hypothesis, which is incapable of direct 
verification, but which is demanded to explain the rela- 
tion of directly observed phenomena to each other. Such 
an hypothesis is of the same nature for psychology as 

vii 



Vlll PREFACE 

the atomic theory or the electron theory is for chemistry, 
and has the same value for psychology that the repre- 
sentation of forces by lines has for physics. In no other 
way does it seem possible to bring the full effect of the 
studies in physiology for the past tweDty-five years to the 
interpretation of psychological phenomena. 

Psychology may be written without reference to physio- 
logical processes, just as physics and chemistry may be 
studied without referring to atoms or electrons or the 
parallelogram of forces; but so helpful are the connota- 
tions of these physical hypotheses that nearly all teach- 
ers use them. We shall find equal or greater value aris- 
ing from the employment of a physiological hypothesis in 
psychology. 

In developing a hypothesis of this nature, it will read- 
ily be recognized that much modification of the simple 
hypothesis may be necessary in order to make it accurate 
throughout, and applicable to every case, or capable of 
explaining all observed phenomena. As complex as our 
hypothesis may seem, it is probable that the physiological 
changes that occur are many times as complex as the 
statement of the simple hypothesis will indicate. 

As there is no method of demonstrating the hypothesis 
by direct observation of the physiological changes, its 
truth or falsity must be judged by its ability to explain 
all the observed phenomena. In so far as we are able to 
explain by the hypothesis all observable phenomena, we 
may accept it as true. Certainly such an hypothesis is 
within the bounds of possibility, and we are by its means 
able to bring the results of physiological investigations 
to the proper understanding of phenomena universally 
recognized as psychical. 

Nathan A. Harvey. 

Ypsilanti, Michigan, October 8, 1913. 



THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

Their Nature, Function and Interpretation 

Chapter I. 
MEANING OF THE TERMS. 

The word feeling is used in various ways to signify 
many different things. It has a well recognized meaning 
nearly synonymous with the sense of touch. We may tell 
by feeling whether a surface is smooth or rough, hot or 
cold, wet or dry. While this is a very common meaning, 
it is not the meaning generally employed in psychology. 

Feeling also describes the general state of health; as 
when we say that we feel bad, or sick, or well. It desig- 
nates the general sensation which scarcely permits of 
being localized. It refers to the state of the body as a 
whole, and not to any special mental process. Closely 
related to this use of the word is one that indicates cer- 
tain special sensations, as when we say that we feel cold 
or hungry. Cold and hunger are strictly sensations, and 
the use of the word feeling to describe them is no longer 
in conformity with the prevailing usage that discrimi- 
nates sensation from the affective process. This use of 
the word feeling cannot be described as psychological, 
nor one in which it will be employed as a psychological 
term. 

Feeling also has a use in the description of a picture, 
or other work of art. As there employed, it means a par- 
ticular characteristic of the artistic production that 
renders it capable of appealing to the emotional or feel- 
ing side of the nature of the individual. It is rather a 
figurative use, and not at all scientific in its application. 
It is not truly a psychological meaning. 

1 



2 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

As a psychological term, the word feeling is used with 
many different shades of meaning, and it is necessary to 
discriminate them clearly in order to avoid confusion 
while reading the works of different writers upon psy- 
chology. We shall obtain a wrong impression of an au- 
thor's thought if we put the same meaning into the word 
feeling in reading his works that we do when reading 
those of another. So serious is this discrepancy that 
many psychologists refuse to employ the term feeling, and 
seek some word that is not so well known, and which has 
not so many diverse connotations. But the advantage 
to be obtained from its use seems to justify the attempt 
to free it from uudesirable associations and to make its 
meaning clear and definite. 

One use of the word makes it mean merely pleasure 
and pain. Nothing else is feeling, and all feelings are 
either pleasures or pains. It would appear that this use 
of the word is too limited to meet general approval, and 
it is incompatible with the analysis of feeling that is 
made in this book. It implies that we may have a feel- 
ing of pain rather than a painful feeling; it asserts that 
pain is the feeling, rather than merely a property of it. 
Hence we shall not adopt this meaning. 

Another use of the word designates by it an affective 
process of a particular degree of complexity. It is less 
complex than an emotion and more complex than an af- 
fection. The attempt is made to discriminate affective 
processes by means of their complexity, and to classify 
them upon that basis. It is doubtful if such an attempt 
can be satisfactory or very successful. It would be dif- 
ficult to discriminate a complex feeling or affective process 
from a simple one, and even if it could be done, the rela- 
tion so exhibited would scarcely contribute anything of 
value to our knowledge of the subject. It is necessary 
for us to recognize, however, that the word is sometimes 
thus employed, although such use may not commend itself 
to us. 



MEANING OF THE TERMS 6 

A third function of the word makes it mean a combina- 
tion of intellectual and affective elements. The total of 
a mental experience, especially if it is a relatively simple 
one, with all its elements, is called a feeling. This use 
is not far removed from the practice of those persons who 
speak of an intellectual feeling, by which is generally 
meant an obscure or indefinite perception of a relation 
not clearly defined. But to call the simple intellectual 
process in its totality a feeling is rather out of harmony 
with the present tendency to discriminate sharply the 
cognitive elements in a mental experience from the af- 
fective. If we were to employ the word in this sense to 
mean the totality of a mental experience, we should still 
need some term by which to discriminate the affective 
from the cognitive elements. It would seem preferable 
to reserve the word feeling for the affective elements 
alone, and to employ some other word to designate the 
intellectual or cognitive elements. Certainly, every 
mental process is capable of such an analysis, and the 
word feeling has already such important connotations 
with the affective elements that it is doing violence to the 
language of psychology to include cognitive elements 
within its limits. 

Another use of the word limits it to those affective 
states that accompany ideas, or mental processes more 
complex and of a higher order than sensations, which in- 
volve the activities of the senses. Pain or pleasure — the 
affective conditions that accompany the activities of the 
senses — are not classed as feelings, but called by some 
other name; sensations, appetites, desires, or some other 
designation than feelings. The word feeling in this con- 
nection is reserved for the activity of some other portion 
of the human complex than the bodily organs; it is re- 
served for the activity of the mind, or the soul, or the 
self active entity that is assumed to be independent of 
the physical conditions. While the persons who adhere 



4 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

to this use of the word would not so describe it, we may 
say that this use of the word feeling is limited to the af- 
fective states that are the concomitants of centrally in- 
itiated impulses, while it is distinctly not employed to 
designate the states that are accompanied by peripherally 
initiated impulses. It would seem as if this were scarcely 
a justifiable discrimination, since affective processes cer- 
tainly accompany the activity of sense organs. Although 
it is employed by some good writers, there seems to be 
no sufficient reason for limiting the word feeling to this 
use. 

Instead of the word feeling, the idea which it connotes 
is often expressed, in whole or in part, by other terms. 
Emotion is a very common synonym for feeling, and when 
so used it is given quite an extensive application. Darwin 
uses it in the title of his book The Expression of the Emo- 
tions. Many other writers have employed it to mean all 
that we shall expect to mean by feeling. The word emo- 
tion also has a variety of meanings, but as it is used by 
Darwin, it is almost completely synonymous with feeling 
in the widest sense of the word. Sometimes the word 
emotion is not completely synonymous with it but ex- 
presses an affective state of a higher degree of complexity. 
Affection, mood, sentiment, temperament express other 
degrees of complexity among affective processes. 

Sensibility is sometimes used to express the entire 
range of the affective life. When so used, it is correlative 
to intellect and will. All mental life was once supposed 
to be capable of distribution into three great groups of 
powers: intellect, sensibility, and will. Sensibility was 
defined as the group of powers by which we feel. This 
use of the word is wholly inadequate to express the newer 
conception of feeling, and the word sensibility has al- 
most disappeared from psychological literature. 

Sensation is the most troublesome of all the synonyms 
for feeling in common use. The difficulty arises from a 



MEANING OP THE TERMS O 

failure to discriminate sensation as an intellectual, or 
knowing process, from the affective side of the process, 
which is properly called feeling or affection. Even in 
recent books of the highest authority the distinction is 
not clearly maintained. Formerly no attempt was made 
to discriminate the two processes involved in an activity 
of the sense organs, and this use of the word sensation per- 
sists. In this use it is almost completely synonymous with 
feeling, as described in the third function of the word 
above. In common speech today, even among well in- 
formed persons, sensation as frequently means a process 
characterized by pleasure or pain, as one which merely 
gives knowledge of an outside event. 

However, among psychologists the tendency for a good 
many years has been to limit the word sensation to the 
intellectual process accompanying the activity of the 
sense organs, and to employ the word feeling, or affec- 
tion, to designate the affective process that occurs at the 
same time. It is possible to discriminate by a process of 
abstraction the cognitive from the affective side of a 
sensory process, and the word sensation has come to mean 
properly the cognitive side. In order to avoid the misun- 
derstanding that seems likely to arise from the use of the 
word sensation, some writers have chosen to employ the 
phrase simple sentience to express the cognitive process, 
and to use some other word, such as affection, to express 
the affective side of the same process. It seems, however, 
that the prevailing tendency is to limit the word sensa- 
tion to the intellectual process, and to distinguish the af- 
fective accompaniments by another term. No harm will 
be done if we adhere strictly to the general custom among 
psychologists, and employ sensation to express the simple 
intellectual process that accompanies the activity of a 
sense organ, giving us knowledge, and making us ac- 
quainted with the quality of an object. We may use the 
term affection to express that kind of feeling which may 



6 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

be pleasurable or painful, that accompanies the sensa- 
tion, but by sensation we shall always mean a simple 
knowing process. 

It is not strange that this confusion in the use of the 
term sensation should exist. Sense, sensation, sensi- 
bility — all contain the same root meaning, and at a time 
when the affective and cognitive elements were not clearly 
distinguished from each other, sensation was applied to 
both, and adhered rather more closely to the affective 
process than to the cognitive. 

Instead of the word feeling, some of the most careful 
writers employ the compound form pleasure-pain to ex- 
press the general affective process. This use of the term 
assumes that pleasure and pain constitute the feeling, 
and that there are no other processes that may be desig- 
nated by that name, while every feeling is either a pleas- 
ure or a pain. As will be shown in later chapters, this 
determination of feeling cannot be maintained, and con- 
sequently some other form of expression must be em- 
ployed. It will be shown that pleasure and pain are 
merely properties of feeling and not the feeling itself. To 
use pleasure-pain in this sense of the word is to commit 
ourselves to a certain theory of the nature of feeling that 
is not satisfactory. 

The confusion in the use of the terms feeling, sensa- 
tion, pleasure-pain, and pain is rendered greater than it 
would otherwise be by the fact that by many writers pain 
is considered to be a sensation in the purely intellectual 
use of the word. It is not considered to be a feeling, nor 
an affective process of any kind, but a purely intellectual 
sensation. It is believed to be as truly a sense as is the 
sense of temperature or the sense of touch. So wide 
spread is this conviction that it is necessary for us to ex- 
amine the matter carefully and to state our reasons for 
failing to agree to the proposition. 

The notion that pain is a sensation perhaps originated 



MEANING OF THE TERMS 7 

with Goldscheider, who discovered the end organs for the 
sense of temperature and discriminated the sense of heat 
from the sense of cold. He believed that he had discov- 
ered the end organs of pain, or spots to which if a stim- 
ulus were applied a distinct sensation of pain was pro- 
duced, unlike the sensation arising from the activity of 
other senses. He believed that the activity of the other 
senses would in no case afford the sensation of pain, un- 
less there were pain spots or end organs of pain that 
should be stimulated at the same time or by the same 
stimulus. He believed that he had discovered that the 
pain stimulus was transmitted through definite columns 
of the spinal cord, and by inference, that we should find 
all pain impulses transmitted to a pain center in the 
brain. In several popular books on psychology and 
physiology we find a portion of the brain designated as 
the area for touch, pain, and temperature. 

Goldscheider's exposition of the matter was very favor- 
ably received for several reasons. In the first place, the 
new psychology, which is distinguished from the old 
largely by the much greater emphasis which it lays upon 
physiological processes, had manifested a decided weak- 
ness in dealing with the feelings. The anatomical investi- 
gations of nerve structure, and the methods of experiment 
that had proved so successful with the intellectual proc- 
esses, failed to accomplish equally satisfactory results 
when applied to the feelings. There existed a general 
impression that in some way the intellectual processes 
were paralleled by the feeling processes, and the simplest 
expression of this view was to postulate a parallelism in 
the nervous system, with one system of end organs, nerve 
tracts, and brain center for the intellectual processes, 
and another system of end organs, nerve tracts, and brain 
centers for feelings. Ladd, in his Outlines of Physiologi- 
cal Psychology, tolerates the suggestion by remarking 
(p. 388) a the tendency of recent evidence toward a some- 



8 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

what complete separation of the nervous mechanism 
whose excitement produces feelings of sensuous pain and 
pleasure from that whose excitement results in the pro- 
duction of the sensations themselves." It is not uncom- 
mon to find in books on elementary physiology and psy- 
chology, diagrams in which the area of the feelings is 
located in the frontal lobes of the brain. 

The above represents one tendency regarding the feel- 
ings that favored the adoption of Goldscheider's views. 
Another was a tendency to reduce the feelings to an in- 
tellectual basis and to diminish the difference between 
feeling and intellect, the tendency being to show that the 
two were in the last analysis identical ; that feeling was 
an obscure, indefinite process which, when it should be- 
come definite and clear, would be sensation. That pain 
should be considered a sensation appeared to be the first 
step in that direction, and a promise that the exceedingly 
difficult problem of finding a physiological interpretation 
for feeling was in the process of being solved. 

This attitude of the leaders of the New Psychology to- 
ward the interpretation of pain as a sensation was 
favored by the difficulties which the Old Psychology had 
encountered. Believing as they did that feeling was an 
activity of the mind, the older dualistic psychologists 
were unable to account for the pain involved in the ac- 
tivity of the sense organs; hence they were inclined to 
distinguish feeling proper, an activity of the mind, from 
pain, an affection of the physical organism. So the propo- 
sition of Goldscheider to regard pain as an intellectual 
sensation was consonant with the views of both kinds of 
psychologists. When Goldscheider reported that he had 
discovered pain spots on the skin, the accuracy of his in- 
vestigations was readily accepted. 

The evidence for regarding pain as a sensation may be 
summed up under four heads: First, that there are 
places in the body in which a stimulus will arouse only 



MEANING OF THE TERMS V 

sensations of pain without the sensation of touch. Such 
a place is the cornea of the eye. Second, that there are 
places, such as the inside of the cheek, in which the sensa- 
tion of touch may be aroused without arousing the sensa- 
tion of pain, no matter how strong the stimulus may be- 
come. Third, certain drugs, such as cocaine, will destroy 
the sensation of pain, while leaving the sensation of 
touch unaffected. Fourth, certain other drugs, such as 
saponin, will destroy the sensation of touch, while it 
leaves unaffected the sensation of pain. 

The evidence furnished by these several lines of experi- 
ment scarcely seems conclusive. As will be shown later, 
each of the classes of facts that are relied upon to prove 
the sensational character of pain may better be explained 
by some other hypothesis. On the other hand, there is no 
suggestion of the presence of pleasure spots, or pleasure 
sensation, and pleasure is always considered the comple- 
ment of pain. There is no special stimulus especially 
adapted to pain, as there is for every other sensation, but 
any stimulus that will establish an impulse in any other 
kind of a sense organ may be the origin of an impulse 
that is painful. When we put with this the fact that 
there are no organs in the skin that can positively be 
demonstrated to be the end organs of pain, we are justi- 
fied in refusing to credit the notion that all pain is a 
sensation, and the result of the stimulation of special 
pain organs. 

Pain occurs in the function of any sense whenever the 
intensity of the stimulus reaches a certain degree. The 
function of any sense organ, when stimulated in a mod- 
erate degree, affords pleasure, but when the stimulation 
greatly exceeds the pleasure-giving intensity, the feeling 
associated with the sensation is a painful one. Conse- 
quently, many of the best and most recent writers upon 
physiology have refused to adopt the theory. Morat 
(Physiology of the Nervous System, p. 402) says that 



10 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

"Pain requires no special apparatus for its production. 
There is no organ of special pain sense, and there are no 
special conductors of pain. There is no system that prop- 
erly belongs to it." This seems to express very clearly 
the most recent tendency among physiologists concerning 
the question of pain. We may properly conclude, then, 
that pain is not a sensation, but belongs to the affective 
side of mental life, and constitutes a property of feeling. 
The truth of the matter seems to be that psychologists 
have discovered in the skin one or more sensations that 
are not touch nor temperature, which are not sharply 
characterized in themselves, nor sharply differentiated 
from each other. One of these, at least, has been inju- 
diciously characterized as the sensation of pain, and we 
are permitted to infer that all pain arises as the con- 
comitant of the stimulation of these particular sense or- 
gans. Itching and stinging are by some psychologists de- 
scribed as merely different forms of this same pain sensa- 
tion. We are even required to subscribe to the paradox 
that pain may not always be painful, but that many times 
it is even pleasurable. 

There is no objection to a writer using any word that 
he desires to employ to express an idea, provided he states 
at the outset the sense in which he intends to employ it, 
and adheres rigidly to that meaning. It is advantageous, 
however, to use any word in as nearly the ordinary sense 
as possible, since it renders it less difficult for readers to 
understand his thought. The word feeling seems to be 
the word which is most available, and the most nearly 
satisfactory to express the idea that constitutes the sub- 
ject of this book. 

By feeling we shall mean throughout this book any 
kind of an affective process, simple or complex, painful or 
pleasurable, vivid or faint. We shall mean by it any 
emotional state, sentiment, or mood. It will express any 



MEANING OF THE TERMS 11 

activity that might by the older psychologists have been 
classified under the head of sensibility. We shall care- 
fully discriminate feeling from the intellectual or cogni- 
tive process, and shall strive consistently to maintain this 
distinction. Such use of the word has abundant justifica- 
tion in the practice of many writers, although others have 
limited it very much in the manner described above. 

At the very outset we are confronted with a difficulty 
in definition. We have already described feeling as any 
kind of an affective process, but it is as difficult to define 
affection as it is to define feeling. Feeling is something 
that every one knows but no one can define, since there is 
nothing simpler to which it can be compared, nor any- 
thing else that it can be said to resemble. We may de- 
fine it as a mental process, and then discriminate it from 
other mental processes like sensation or cognition. An 
intellectual process such as sensation causes us to know 
something. It is a process that establishes a correspond- 
ence between our internal experience and the outside sit- 
uation. It gives us knowledge of something, often of the 
outside world. By feeling we do not learn anything, but 
it is purely a subjective experience. It is a very satisfac- 
tory statement of Hoffding that feeling might be defined 
as that in our inward states which cannot by any possi- 
bility become an element in a percept or an image. 

When we describe feeling as an affective process we dis- 
criminate it from an intellectual process. But this 
renders it necessary that we should define affective proc- 
ess or affection. The definition of affection involves the 
same difficulty as does the definition of feeling, and for 
the same reason. But if we cannot make a logical defini- 
tion of affection, We can at least point out some of its dis- 
tinguishing characteristics by which we may know it. 
For our present purpose, we may define affection as any 
kind of a mental process that has for its conspicuous char- 
acteristic pleasure or pain. If we shall for the present 



12 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

regard pleasure or pain as the affection itself, we shall 
establish a basis for discussion that may afterward be 
modified so that it shall be accurate. Pleasure or pain is 
not the affection itself, but merely a distinguishing char- 
acteristic, expressing not its true nature, but serving as 
an identification mark. Feeling, then, is any kind of an 
affective process. 

Synopsis. 

1 — Sensation is a simple mental process that makes us 
acquainted with a quality of an object. It is a cognitive, 
or knowing process. It may be accompanied by a peri- 
pherally or a centrally initiated impulse, it may be vivid 
or faint. 

2 — Affection is a simple mental process that is purely 
subjective, gives us no information of the outside world, 
and has for its distinguishing characteristic pleasure or 
pain. 

3 — Feeling is any kind of an affective process, simple 
or complex, painful or pleasurable, vivid or faint. 



Chapter II. 
THEORIES OF FEELING. 

It is evident to every psychologist that our knowledge 
of feeling and the "state of the art" (to use the lan- 
guage of the patent office) is in an extremely unsatisfac- 
tory condition. Notwithstanding the enormous activity 
in psychological study in the past twenty-five years, our 
knowledge of feeling is scarcely in advance of that which 
existed before the advent of the New Psychology. It 
seems that the New Psychology has been scarcely more 
successful than the old in the study of the feelings, and 
that the processes of experiment and physiological in- 
vestigation have so far failed to lend themselves readily 
to the study of feelings. Up to the present, it appears 
that James's theory of feeling has been the greatest ad- 
vance that the New Psychology has made, and James's 
theory has failed to attain universal ascendency. 

It is necessary in studying the "state of the art" to 
know what theories of feeling have been held and have 
guided investigation. Some theory is necessary, or a 
large part of investigation will be utterly useless and 
wasted effort. 

The first theory to be considered we may call the com- 
mon theory, for it was formerly universal among psychol- 
ogists, and is held today by almost all well informed per- 
sons who are not psychologists. This common theory 
assumes that feeling is an activity of a self existent, self 
active entity called mind, or soul, and is one of the three 
kinds of activities — thinking, feeling, and willing — of 
which this entity is capable. There is no cause for the 

13 



14 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

feeling except the self activity of the mind itself. The 
mind may feel in one way or another according to the cir- 
cumstances, but it is not compelled to do so, nor is the 
feeling the result of outside circumstances, but only of 
the inside activity. The mind is the cause of its own feel- 
ing. 

It is this conception of the nature of feeling that leads 
to the distinction between physical feeling, associated 
with sensation, and the activity of sense organs on the 
one hand, and mental feeling, or unpleasantness, unre- 
lated to sensation on the other. Physical feeling is de- 
termined by the action of some outside force upon the 
body, while mental feeling is determined only by the ac- 
tivity of the mind itself. Hence it is that there is an 
indisposition to consider physical feeling, associated with 
the activity of the bodily organs, as feeling, but a readi- 
ness to relegate it to the domain of sensation, an intel- 
lectual, or at least, a non-emotional process. 

Also, it is a consequence of this theory of feeling as an 
activity of the entity called mind that we are led to talk 
about the cultivation of the feelings. It is understood 
that the mind grows and becomes more skillful in any of 
its activities by practice. Hence practice in experiencing 
feelings will increase the facility of such activities, and 
feelings are cultivated by their exercise. Perhaps this is 
one of the most pernicious doctrines that has arisen from 
the common theory of feeling, and one whose origin is 
seldom recognized. 

When a feeling has been experienced, it is then ex- 
pressed. According to the theory, expression is not nec- 
essary to the feeling activity, but is merely a matter of 
convenience or indirect benefit. Hence there are ex- 
pressive muscles some of which are believed to have little 
use except for expression. The feeling precedes the ex- 
pression, and the expression is not necessary to the feel- 
ing activity. 



THEORIES OF FEELING 15 

Upon this theory of feeling, there is little that can be 
said concerning the relation of the feeling activity to the 
body or the nervous system. If we limit our use of the 
term feeling to the psychical or mental feeling, as distin- 
guished from the physical feeling, the condition of the 
nervous system can have but little influence upon it. 
Whatever the connection between bodily state and feel- 
ing process may be, it is not a causal one, nor one of the 
most intimate kind. 

The nature of the connection between the feeling activ- 
ity and the intellectual process is not very satisfactorily 
determined, nor is it very intimate. The two are not in- 
separable, but each may manifest itself independently of 
the other. It is believed that the intellectual process 
precedes the feeling process, and that the feeling process 
is determined, in part at least, by the intellectual process. 
The person must know before he can feel, but the kind of 
feeling experienced is not necessarily dependent upon the 
thing that is known. The mind can feel as it wishes to 
feel, no matter what may be the nature of the intellectual 
process that precedes. 

One other thing is generally assumed in the relation 
between intellect and feeling, as growing out of this com- 
mon theory: namely, the stronger the intellect, the 
stronger the feeling. The mind that is vigorous is vigor- 
ous in all of its activities. If it is vigorous intellectually, 
it is equally vigorous affectively. The relation between 
the two is a direct one. It can readily be seen how such 
a conception of the relation between intellect and feeling 
is derived from a consideration of a theory rather than 
from an examination of the facts. 

While this theory is stated above in its most extreme 
form, and some evident conclusions drawn that are 
seldom so bluntly expressed, something like this in a 
more or less modified form is the common opinion about 
feeling. It is unnecessary to state that modern psychol- 



16 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

ogy knows nothing of this mysterious entity that is self- 
active, and whose self-activity occasions the thinking, 
feeling, and willing. It is impossible to consider the 
feelings as self caused, or caused by the self-activity of 
the mind. To postulate such a self active entity as a 
cause of feeling is to leave the domain of science and enter 
upon that of mythology. Much of our psychology looks 
for an explanation of the origin of feeling in the nervous 
and cerebral condition of the individual who experiences 
the feeling, consequently a more nearly adequate theory 
of feeling is demanded. 

James's theory asserts that the expression of the feel- 
ing occurs first, and is the cause of the feeling itself. We 
are not first pleased and then laugh, but we laugh first 
and next experience the feeling. We weep and then we 
are sorry. We run or shriek, and then experience the 
feeling of fear. In this theory we have a direct contradic- 
tion of the common theory, which asserts that the feeling 
precedes the expression and is the cause of it. James's 
theory asserts that the expression comes first and is the 
cause of the feeling. 

James's theory has received very wide acceptance and 
is believed in a more or less modified form by a majority 
of all psychologists today. It has been a very fertile 
theory leading to much valuable investigation, and exer- 
cising even more influence upon the study of other de- 
partments of psychology than upon the study of feeling 
itself. It conforms closely to the spirit of the New Psy- 
chology, and in that fact lies the principal source of its 
strength. Nevertheless, it contains implications incom- 
patible with the facts, and which are capable of being dis- 
proved. 

The interpretation of Mr. James's theory involves the 
following essential elements : The movement that we are 
accustomed to call the expression has essentially the na- 



THEORIES OP FEELING 17 

ture of a reflex. There is no mental process accompany- 
ing it, but it is the direct response of the muscle to the 
stimulus acting upon a sense organ. When the reflex, 
expressive movement occurs, a backward flowing impulse 
is established in the muscle that has contracted, and when 
this backward flowing impulse reaches the brain, the feel- 
ing is experienced. The origin of the nervous accompani- 
ment of the feeling is the contraction of the muscle by 
which the feeling is expressed. 

Mr. James argues the case for his theory very skillfully, 
and his arguments may be grouped into three different 
classes: First, he asserts that direct observation shows 
that the expression precedes the feeling. A person in 
great danger may escape from the danger, and only after 
the escape does he experience any of the feeling of fear. 
The movements by which he escapes are the expressive 
movements, and precede the feeling. 

Examples of this kind may be cited in numbers, but 
probably as many examples of a contrary nature may be 
discovered. The answer to the argument is a direct de- 
nial of its universality, for it can be shown that not in 
every case does the expression precede the feeling. The 
evidence that the feeling precedes the expression is just 
about as strong as that the expression precedes the feel- 
ing. Even as it stands, there is a necessity for assuming 
that in many cases the expression which precedes the 
feeling occurs in some internal organ, the only evidence 
of whose motion is the feeling itself, or that the expres- 
sion occurs in some situation where direct observation is 
impossible. It is even necessary to assert that in some 
cases the inhibition of the movement constitutes the ex- 
pression itself. 

When we have two contrary propositions, one of which 
seems to be supported by evidence about as strong as the 



18 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

other, it is always wise for us to suspect that neither of 
them is true, but that the explanation will be found by 
looking in some other direction. Such seems to be the 
case in the present instance. The expression does not 
precede the feeling, nor does the feeling precede the ex- 
pression, but feeling and expression occur at the same 
time. The expression is not the cause of the feeling, nor 
the feeling the cause of the expression, but both feeling 
and expression arise from the same cause and have a 
direct relation to each other through that causal condi- 
tion. Certainly the feeling and the expression are not 
separated from each other by the long interval of time 
that both the common theory and the James theory as- 
sume that they may be. This fact alone should have been 
remarked, and should have influenced our decision. 

The second argument advanced by the supporters of 
the James theory is that inhibiting the expression in- 
hibits the feeling. In many cases this is true and in many 
others it is not true. Sometime inhibiting the expression 
of the feeling seems to increase it. Two boys who are 
angry, often become better friends after having given ex- 
pression to their anger by a fight. The truth of Holding's 
statement, that the concealment of a feeling, L e., the in- 
hibition of its expression, may cause it to penetrate deeper 
into the nature of the individual (Psychology, p. 332) is 
very generally recognized. 

As will be shown in a subsequent chapter, there are 
three processes by which the expression of a feeling may 
be inhibited, and the feeling is diminished at the same 
time by two of the processes, while it is rather intensified 
by the third. All of us can inhibit the expression of feel- 
ing to some extent without destroying the feeling, or 
diminishing its intensity to anything like the degree that 
the expression has been inhibited. Where such contra- 



THEORIES OF FEELING 19 

dictory conditions prevail, it seems quite evident that the 
explanation offered cannot be the true one. 

The third line of reasoning is somewhat like the second : 
that giving expression to a feeling, induces the feeling. 
Actors experience the feelings that they portray. Like 
the other arguments, this carries with it a partial truth. 
Some actors do experience the feelings they portray, but 
other actors do not. All of us in some degree, and some 
of us in a high degree, can express feelings we do not ex- 
perience. The smoothness of social relations depends in 
a very large measure upon our concealing our true feel- 
ings and expressing feelings we do not experience. The 
woman who receives a caller and says : "O how glad I am 
to see you," then when the caller has gone away remarks : 
"That old cat, I hope she will never come here any more," 
is a living demonstration of the inadequacy of the argu- 
ment. In fact, it was a great man who said that "To lie, 
gracefully, is the chief accomplishment of women." 

We may readily admit that the best way in which to in- 
hibit the feeling is to actualize the condition that results 
in the non-performance of the action which is its expres- 
sion, but we do not necessarily agree to the proposition 
that such inhibition of the feeling demonstrates that ex- 
pression is its cause. We may readily admit that the 
best way in which to engender the feeling is to do the 
things that renders the expression natural and easy, with- 
out committing ourselves to the proposition that the ex- 
pression engenders the feeling. It is possible to find a 
more satisfactory explanation of the relation between 
the feeling and its expression than James's theory pre- 
sents. 

There is one other consideration concerning James's 
theory that ought to be mentioned. James's theory sup- 
poses that the expression which causes the feeling is a re- 
flex. It is the very nature of a reflex to be accompanied 



20 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

by no feeling. The reflex is the direct response of the 
tissues to a stimulus, and in no case is it accompanied by 
any feeling. Many of our most completely habitual ac- 
tions approximate closely to a reflex, and as they more 
and more nearly do so, feeling disappears from them. It 
is a universal law of psychology that feeling tends to dis- 
appear from an habitual act, and our most habitual acts 
resemble reflexes so closely that they are sometimes called 
secondary reflexes. It would seem, then, that if the re- 
flex is the cause of the feeling, our most habitual actions 
ought to be accompanied most uniformly by feeling, which 
is not the case. 

But, if it be called to mind that it is not the reflex it- 
self that causes the feeling, but the backward flowing im- 
pulse that originates in the contraction of the muscle, we 
are committed to a still more dangerous proposition. 
The backward flowing impulse is transmitted to some 
brain center, which we may call the muscular center or 
the center for muscular sensation. When impulses are 
transmitted through this muscular center, we experience 
the muscular sensation. All this may readily be ad- 
mitted, following the analogy of the sight center, the hear- 
ing center, and the centers for taste and smell. 

This would imply, then, that all the muscles of the 
body have nerves running into this muscular center, and 
since it is the important center in the production of the 
feelings, we have a definitely localized portion of the 
brain in which every feeling originates. Such a proposi- 
tion would be very difficult to demonstrate, and would 
seriously complicate any explanation of the relation be- 
tween feelings and the intellectual processes that are 
experienced at the same time. In fact, it would seem to 
render unnecessary any direct relation between the two. 
Such a proposition would in itself lead us to distrust the 



THEORIES OP FEELING 21 

accuracy of the determination of feeling according to 
James's theory. 

I have characterized James's theory as the most im- 
portant contribution of the New Psychology to the study 
of the feelings, but its importance is not a consequence 
of its truth. It perhaps would never have accomplished 
the amount of good that it has done had not somebody 
believed it to be true, but the good that it has accom- 
plished is not a function of its truth. 

One of the most significant results that have come from 
a discussion of James's theory is the great importance that 
psychologists have been led to attach to the muscular sense. 
The muscular or kinaesthetic sense has come into psychol- 
ogy like a new continent into geography. Bo important is 
its discovery that psychologists have been completely un- 
balanced by it, and have gone to the unwarranted extreme 
of declaring that all consciousness is motor, no impres- 
sion without expression, the sensory stimulus must ex- 
press itself in some form of action before a perception can 
be set up, etc. The advocates of this extreme form of the 
sensori-motor arc conception of consciousness do not 
shrink from the conclusion that we think with our mus- 
cles rather than with our brains, although they seldom 
state it so bluntly. If we were to accept the conclusion, 
that all consciousness is motor and a muscular move- 
ment is a necessary condition for any kind of thought, 
we must logically expect to find that the person who most 
persistently and most vigorously exercises his muscles 
is the most vigorous thinker and inevitably does the great- 
est amount of intellectual work. The direct contradic- 
tory of this proposition is true. 

When stated thus in its extreme form, the advocates 
of the sensorimotor arc conception of consciousness find 
it very difficult to account for the fact of mental action, 
or how any kind of a mental process can determine what 
an action shall be. Neither the intellectual process nor 



22 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

feeling appears to be a determining factor in the action. 
Then too, the fact seems to be overlooked that the func- 
tion of the cortex is the interposition of a resistance be- 
tween the sensory stimulus and the motor response, which 
destroys the sensorimotor arc, and is fatal to the theory. 

The muscular sensation enters into the composition of 
very many perceptions, as well as into many other mental 
processes. It seems safe to assert that all mental action 
is just about as much muscular as it is visual or auditory 
or tactual. However much emphasis we may lay upon 
the muscular sensation, it is unwise to disregard the im- 
portance of the other senses. Even if we admit that every 
feeling is accompanied by some muscular contraction 
that we may call the expression, and that every intellect- 
ual process does eventuate in action, it would still be 
incumbent upon us to show that such action is a neces- 
sary condition rather than an inevitable accompaniment. 
It may be perfectly safe to assert that a wagon cannot 
run without noise, but it becomes exceedingly difficult to 
demonstrate that the noise pushes the wagon along. 

James's theory has been rendered more acceptable to 
psychologists because in it is found a means of connecting 
the feelings with the physical organism in a way that the 
common theory did not do. The intellectual processes 
had been associated with the nerve processes quite satis- 
factorily, and James's theory furnished a means of un- 
derstanding how a similar connection might be made with 
feeling. It was directly in line with the onward move- 
ment of the new psychology at a time that the new psy- 
chology was needing some physiological interpretation 
for feeling. 

While James's theory is the oldest, best known, and 
most widely accredited of all theories of feeling that have 
their origin in the new psychology, it has not been uni- 
versally accepted, but many other theories have from 



THEORIES OF FEELING 23 

time to time been advanced. We may readily recognize 
two different types. 

One type is of the kind that may be called physiolog- 
ical, seeking an explanation of the feelings in the nervous 
conditions that determine them. The other type disre- 
gards largely the physical conditions, and may be called 
the purely mental, or psychological, type of feeling 
theories. 

Of the latter, one kind of theory regards feeling as the 
accompaniment of a struggle between ideas or other 
mental processes. Thus Hamilton says (Metaphysics, p. 
171) "pleasure is the reflex of unforced and unimpeded 
ideas," while Ribot, quoting Krafft-Ebing (Emotions, p. 
72), says "We must consider psychic pain and the arrest 
of ideas as coordinate phenomena." 

In this type of theory there is the recognition of a strug- 
gle, hesitation, and delay in the psychic processes. If the 
ideas are conceived to be the active agents, as believed by 
the Herbartians, feelings originate from a struggle be- 
tween ideas. With others, indecision, hesitation, delay, 
and doubt are the conditions that influence and give rise 
to feelings. 

Of the physiological type of theory there are many 
variations. We may, however, notice two distinct groups : 
the peripheral and the central. The peripheral group of 
theories considers the determining concomitant of feel- 
ing to be the activity of some peripheral organ, either the 
contraction of some muscle or the activity of some other 
sense organ or gland. The central group of theories as- 
sumes that the concomitant of feeling is the activity of a 
cortical center which may have been induced in some one 
or another of many different ways. James's theory as 
described on page 17 is a central theory, although, as it 
was originally stated and as it is still understood by 
many persons, it was a peripheral theory. 

Meynert regards pain as originating in the opposing 



24 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

activities of two kinds of reflex movements, associated 
with the blood vessels and the muscles. As a result of 
these two kinds of movements the conductivity of the 
nervous tissue is diminished and the result is a feeling of 
pain. This explanation is limited to physical pain, and 
needs to be very much modified before it can apply to 
purely mental feelings that are either painful or pleasur- 
able. Like James's theory, it supposes the origin of feel- 
ing to be in the movements of some other substance than 
the nerve tissue. 

Spencer also regards feeling as associated with some 
kind of obstruction. He says: "Physiologically consid- 
ered, a disagreeable course of action is one in which com- 
pound feelings have to issue in compound actions through 
complex nervous structures that offer considerable re- 
sistance. (Psychology, I, p. 580.) Also he says: "Where 
action is perfectly automatic (without resistance) feel- 
ing does not exist" (p. 478). 

It would seem from this that Mr. Spencer seeks a 
physiological explanation of the origin of feeling in the 
impeded action of the nervous current. Whether he 
would make such an explanation apply to anything else 
than a painful feeling, or whether he would explain by it 
any other property of feeling than the painful, or perhaps 
the pleasurable tone, it is impossible for us to say ; but it 
is worthy of note that this important characteristic of 
feeling is regarded as having its concomitant in the ob- 
struction or resistance to the nervous current. 

Henry Rutgers Marshall regards pain and pleasure as 
the concomitants of a physiological process depending 
upon the relation between receipt and expenditure of 
nervous energy. If the outflow is greater than the intake, 
the accompanying feeling is pain ; while if the outflow is 
less than the intake, the resulting feeling is pleasure. If 
the two are exactly balanced, the feeling is one of indiffer- 
ence, "Pain is experienced whenever the physical reac- 



THEORIES OP FEELING 25 

tion which determines the content is so related to the sup- 
ply of nutriment to its organ that the energy involved in 
the reaction is less in amount than the energy which the 
stimulus habitually calls forth. Pleasure is experienced 
whenever the energy involved in the reaction to a stimu- 
lus is greater in amount than the energy which the stim- 
ulus habitually calls forth. Pleasure and pain are primi- 
tive qualities of psychic states which are determined by 
the relation between capacity and activity in the organ, 
the activities of which are concomitants of the psychoses 
involved." {Pain, Pleasure and Aesthetics, p. 204.) 

There is much to be said in favor of such an hypothesis 
as this, and many theories that have been propounded in 
recent years involve something of the same ideas. The 
principal criticism of Marshall's theory is that it is too 
limited, making feeling synonymous with pleasure and 
pain, and therefore it is not sufficiently comprehensive to 
explain all feelings. It scarcely furnishes an explanation 
of why one feeling should differ from another, as the 
feeling of fear from the feeling of anger. Both may be 
painful feelings, but they are discriminated by other 
things than their painful or pleasurable character. 

Dr. Paul Sollier, in his book on the Mechanism of the 
Emotions, meets the question raised by James of the or- 
der — perception, emotion, expression, — by the assertion 
that the expression and emotion are concomitant and not 
sequential. Also, he considers the physiological process 
that gives rise to the feeling to be a central, cerebral, not 
a peripheral process. 

Another group of theories consider feeling as the con- 
comitant of a physiological process occurring in the 
brain, and consisting of the radiation of a nervous im- 
pulse out of the centers through which it is passing in or- 
der to give rise to a mental process. Bain, (Mind and 
Body, p. 52) : "When an impression is accompanied by 
feeling, the aroused currents diffuse themselves freely 



26 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

over the brain, leading to a general agitation of the mov- 
ing organs as well as affecting the viscera." So Hoffding, 
quoting Richet, says that "pain without memory and 
without radiation would be no pain at all;" also, a very 
significant statement, that "Probably it presupposes the 
subduing of a great resistance in the central nerve or- 
gans." 

A very recent theory of feeling is that of Professor Max 
Meyer who says that "The correlate of pleasantness and 
unpleasantness is the increase or decrease of the intensity 
of a previously constant current, if the increase or de- 
crease of the intensity is caused by a force acting at a 
point other than the point of stimulation. (Psychological 
Review, 1908, p. 307.) 

It will be observed in all these theories that scarcely 
any two of them cover exactly the same points. Hence it 
is that nearly all of them are partial, explaining only 
some features of the phenomena of feeling, and not at all 
adequate to serve as a true theory. The theories that 
limit themselves to a consideration of pleasure and pain 
must of necessity be inadequate. 

It appears that any theory of feeling to be satisfactory 
must be a physiological one, or must correlate the mental 
experience of feeling in some way with the physiological 
process. This is the tendency of present day psychology 
by means of which the greatest progress has been made, 
and the field of the feelings is at present exceedingly 
promising. In order to be a satisfactory theory, it must 
account for the specific difference in feeling, i. e., how 
the feeling of fear has become different from the feeling 
of love. It must account for the difference in intensity, 
as well as the painful or pleasurable character of it. It 
must be able to describe the relation between feeling and 
expression, as well as its relation to the cognitive process, 
and other forms of mental activity. None of the theories 
that have as yet been presented do all of these things, 
and we have still a satisfactory theory to discover. 



Chapter III. 
THE DATA. 

The greatest need in the study of the feelings today is 
some understandable hypothesis that shall coordinate 
all of the facts at present known, and guide our obser- 
vation and experiment. Much has been learned about 
feeling, and much more remains to be discovered. That 
our energy may not be misdirected, we need a working 
hyopthesis. 

Any hypothesis is better than none. An accumulation 
of particular instances increases our knowledge in arith- 
metical progression, but the discovery of particulars 
guided by a working hypothesis increases it in geometrical 
ratio. It is believed by many persons that all of our 
knowledge takes on the form of hypothesis, and Haeckel 
goes so far as to say that knowledge is impossible without 
hypothesis. Certain it is that every great discovery in 
science, or in any other department of knowledge, has been 
rendered possible, and has been accomplished, by the use 
of hypotheses. 

Any good hypothesis must be capable of being under- 
stood. Many of the propositions advanced in psychology, 
which might be called hypotheses, violate this first canon. 
As in the study of mental phenomena, the physiological 
processes that accompany them have always contributed 
to furnish the first intelligible ideas, so a purely physio- 
logical hypothesis of feeling will contribute most to its 
understanding. 

Any good hypothesis must be framed in such a way 
that it will not be contradicted by any of the facts al- 
ready known. It must subsume under one law all known 

27 



28 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

facts, but this does not imply that every fact that is 
known must be taken into account in making the hypo- 
thesis. A very large number of facts may obscure the true 
theory that is found to unite them all. It is better to 
consider a smaller number of facts that are significant, 
than a larger number, many of which are less distinctively 
so. WheD by a proper employment of the significant facts 
a satisfactory theory has been advanced, it may be seen 
that some of the facts already known are susceptible to 
a different interpretation than that which has already 
been put upon them. Our search, then, must be first for 
the significant facts. 

As it seems to the writer, the following facts are espe- 
cially significant for feeling: 

1 — for every mental process there is a corresponding 
physiological change. 

The evidence for the truth of this proposition is so 
nearly complete that it will be accepted by almost every 
person acquainted with the present state of psychological 
knowledge without any question. It is possible that per- 
sons persuaded of the independence of the mind will feel 
that, while in many cases there is a physiological change 
accompanying the mental process, such a connection is 
not in all cases demonstrable, and is not even necessary. 
But in so many cases we are able to demonstrate a corre- 
sponding physiological change, and in no single instance 
is it possible to demonstrate that there is a mental process 
without the physiological accompaniment, that there can 
be little objection to making the proposition universal, 
and assuming it to be true in all cases. 

It will be observed that in the proposition as stated, 
there is no attempt to determine what is the nature of the 
connection between the mental process and the physiolog- 
ical change that accompanies it. So far as the statement 
goes, the mental process may be the cause of the physiolog- 
ical change, the physiological change may be the cause of 



THE DATA 29 

the mental process, or there may be no causal connection 
between them. It may be that the two are merely parallel, 
without there being any other kind of a relation between 
them than that which is manifested by two clocks in 
different places, both of which keep accurate time. But 
it is not necessary for us to assume any explanation of 
the cause of the concomitance, but merely to assert that 
there is a correspondence. Whenever we find a particular 
mental process, we always find a corresponding physiolog- 
ical change, and if we observe a particular physiological 
process, we may be sure that the corresponding mental 
process is going on. 

We can observe a mental process that occurs in our 
own experience directly, but its interpretation is difficult, 
and it is not possible always to picture it in visual, au- 
ditory, or tactual images. Hence we shall find a decided 
advantage in imaging mental processes in physiological 
terms as soon as we have recognized what is the nature 
of the physiological process that is their invariable ac- 
companiment. We shall find the same advantage in pic- 
turing mental processes in physiological terms that we 
find in physics in representing forces by lines, or measur- 
ing force in terms of the movement of matter. The em- 
ployment of lines to represent forces has completely trans- 
formed the science of physics, and we shall expect that 
the same kind of transformation will occur in psychology 
as soon as the physiological interpretations are generally 
adopted. The great difficulty up to the present has 
been to discover or imagine what may be the physiological 
concomitant of some of the most important mental proc- 
esses, such as the feeling and the will. It is in the field 
of these processes that the dualists have insisted that no 
concomitance is possible, and that feeling, especially in 
its more complex forms, has no determinable physiological 
accompaniment. Even in the most complex intellectual 
processes it has been believed that the demonstration of 



oO THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

concomitance was impossible. "How do the cells explode 
in a syllogism?" was the poser presented by one of our 
great philosophers. What physiological process corre- 
sponds to the uplift of soul that is experienced in looking 
upon the Sistine Madonna? Nevertheless, no one has 
ever experienced an uplift of soul when the physical or- 
ganism was missing, and even when it was out of repair 
the uplift was startlingly wanting. 

2 — The physiological change that accompanies the men- 
tal process consists of the transmission of a nervous cur- 
rent through a nervous arc. 

It is true that other physiological processes, such as 
the change in heart beat, greater blood tension, visceral 
symptoms, etc., occur at the same time, and many persons, 
emphasizing these other physiological features, are ready 
to insist that they must be considered a necessary part of 
the physiological concomitant. It will appear, however, 
that these muscular and visceral changes are extraneous 
indications of the nervous current, rather than primary 
elements in the physiological change which directly ac- 
companies the mental process. 

The word current is derived from a word that means to 
run, and is strictly applied to the movement of a stream 
in which there is a direct translation in space of the par- 
ticles of water. When we apply the term to a current of 
electricity or to a nervous current, we shall need to extend 
its meaning and to omit some of the characters that are 
found in a river current, while retaining the essential 
features that are common to all currents. By the term 
current, as we apply it to the nervous system, we mean 
the changes in successive molecules that constitute the 
cells and fibres of the nervous arc. There is no thought 
of the translation of any particle of matter from one end 
of the arc to the other. But we do recognize that, when 
from any cause one molecule of an arc undergoes some 
kind of a change, the molecule next to it changes immedi- 



THE DATA 31 

ately afterward. The change in molecule number 2 in- 
duces a change in molecule number 3, until finally every 
molecule in the length of the nervous arc has been changed. 

The nature of this molecular change which constitutes 
the current is difficult to determine. More than fifty 
years ago, Herbert Spencer demonstrated that it must 
be some kind of a molecular change, and later it has been 
shown that the change in the molecule is a change from 
a colloidal to a crystalloidal condition and back again, 
occurring from ten to twenty times in a second. 

We readily recognize the fact that the molecules which 
make up the nervous system are exceedingly complex, 
consisting of many atoms very loosely bound together. 
It is characteristic of complex molecules to undergo 
changes very readily of a great many kinds, espe- 
cially if the molecules contain atoms of nitrogen. The 
processes of chemical analysis are too crude to deal very 
successfully with organic molecules of such a high de- 
gree of complexity as those found in the nervous system, 
so that we have recognized only a few substances in the 
composition of the nervous tissue, but in those few sub- 
stances we have examples of perhaps the most complex 
molecules known. Whether protagon is a simple sub- 
stance, or a mixture of two or more, investigations into 
its nature have shown the exceedingly complex nature of 
the molecules which compose it. One of the best determi- 
nations of its nature assigns to its molecular structure 
five hundred and nine different atoms. A structure of 
such a high degree of complexity must of necessity be 
very unstable, and its constituent molecules in a state 
of constant rearrangement and readjustment, hence we 
find that very little force is necessary to initiate a change 
that is transmitted through a nervous arc. Forces that 
are too small to be measured by physical means may be 
sufficient to affect a molecular apparatus, which is more 



32 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

sensitive than any that can be constructed in a physical 
machine shop. 

An isomeric change is one that consists of a change in 
the arrangement of the atoms of a molecule, without 
there being any change in their number nor in the iden- 
tity of the atoms that enter into the molecular composi- 
tion. It may be necessary to modify somewhat our con- 
ception of an isomeric change in order to make the mole- 
cular change that occurs in the nervous current come 
under its definition. 

It seems most satisfactory to think of the change that 
occurs in the initial molecule of the nervous arc, which is 
first affected by the force impressed upon it, as consist- 
ing of the jarring loose and driving off from the molecular 
combination, of one or more atoms. These loose atoms, 
moving with atomic speed, strike the next molecule, which 
is not in physical contact but within physiological com- 
munication with it, and drive off from it one or more atoms 
which pass to the next. In this way, successive molecules 
are affected, the same kind of a change occurring in each, 
thus necessitating a new arrangement and a new group- 
ing of the atoms in successive molecules until the final 
molecule in the nervous arc is reached. The final dis- 
placement of the atoms affects the molecules of the organ 
with which the nerve is connected. If the nerve is one 
that terminates in a muscle, the final atom in the ner- 
vous arc that is driven off affects the initial molecules of 
the muscle, and muscular contraction follows. If the 
nerve along which the current is transmitted is an affer- 
ent nerve, the molecular change may be continued through- 
out different brain centers, being finally carried into a 
current connected with some outgoing nerve, or possibly 
having its force exhausted in the center itself, or in the 
neuroglia between the cells. 

It will be seen that in this explanation, which seems to 
furnish an understandable method of interpreting the 



THE DATA 33 

activity of the nervous current, that not the same atoms 
constitute the molecule after the change occurs which 
constituted it before. The atoms may be of the same kind, 
but they are not identical. In this case, the change that 
occurs does not perfectly satisfy the definition of an 
isomeric change, but no test that could be applied would 
discover any difference between it and the one that is 
here described. 

But we are not limited in our speculations to a change 
in molecules depending upon the transfer of atoms. Re- 
cent discoveries concerning the nature of the atom in- 
dicate that there is an enormous amount of force latent 
in the structure of the atom itself. The atom is com- 
posed of many corpuscles, or electrons, from one thousand 
to two hundred thousand in each atom, which are mov- 
ing with velocities comparable to the speed of light, whose 
equilibrium is easily disturbed. It is necessary for us to 
consider the possibility at least, of this change in suc- 
cessive molecules that constitutes the nervous current, 
consisting of the transfer of corpuscles from one atom to 
another, or from one molecule to another, either with or 
without the transfer of atoms described above. We have 
here a source of power previously unrecognized, that en- 
ables us to answer many objections concerning the origin 
of the force that is liberated, and the lack of quantitative 
equivalence between the exciting stimulus and muscular 
force which we were unable to answer before. 

3 — Time is required for a nervous impulse to traverse 
a nervous arc. It will be seen from the previous exposi- 
tion that the present proposition follows as a logical 
necessity. If one molecule must undergo a change before 
the second can change, the two are not simultaneous but 
successive, and the changes in the two terminal molecules 
of the nervous arc will be separated by an interval equiva- 
lent to the sum of the differences between the changes in 
the entire number of pairs of successive molecules. 



34 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

But we are not limited to a theoretical demonstration 
of the fact that the transmission of a nervous impulse re- 
quires time. The measurement of transmission time, 
physiological time, or reaction time is one of the simplest 
of laboratory experiments, and one of the most impressive. 
This, which Mtiller fifty years ago believed would be for- 
ever impossible, has become the commonplace of element- 
ary physiology today. 

The instrument by means of which reaction time is 
measured is called a chronoscope, and it is capable of 
measuring intervals as small as the one thousandth part of 
a second. As the demonstration is usually made, a sub- 
ject is placed behind a screen in such a way that the instru- 
ment is not seen by him. One of his hands is touched with 
a key which releases the pendulum of the chronoscope. 
As soon as the subject feels the touch, he presses a key 
with the other hand which stops an indicator. The indi- 
cator is carried along with the pendulum until the key 
is pressed, so that the distance that the indicator is car- 
ried along with the pendulum, as measured on a scale 
over which it passes, registers the interval between the 
release of the pendulum and the stopping of the indicator. 
But the release of the pendulum is coincident with the 
touching of the hand, and the stopping of the indicator 
is coincident with the pressing of the key. Hence the 
time that is measured is the interval between the starting 
of a nervous impulse in the nerve endings in the skin and 
the contraction of the muscles that move the finger. 

This total reaction time is capable of analysis into 
several parts; First, there is the time necessary to com- 
press the skin over the end organs of touch; Second, the 
time necessary to start the impulse in the nerve or the 
end organ ; Third, the time of transmission from the end 
organ to the brain center for touch; Fourth, the time re- 
quired to transmit the impulse through the touch center ; 
Fifth, the time required to transmit the impulse from the 



THE DATA 35 

touch center to the motor center ; Sixth, the time required 
for the impulse to traverse the motor center ; Seventh, the 
time required to transmit the impulse along the outgoing 
nerve to the muscle; Eighth, the time required to transfer 
the impulse from the nerve to the muscle; Ninth, the 
time required for the muscle to contract ; Tenth, the time 
required for the contraction to move the key, or the time 
of the compression of the tissues between the muscle and 
the key. 

All of these various operations, including the time of 
the transmission of the electric current through the two 
circuits, are so short that they may be omitted without 
very much error, except the transmision of the nervous 
current along the nerve, through the brain centers, and 
from one brain center to another. The time required for 
all the others is, under the ordinary conditions of meas- 
urement, within the limit of experimental error, and 
more error would be caused by trying to take them into 
account than by omitting them from consideration alto- 
gether. The usual amount of reaction time thus meas- 
ured ranges around the time of 187 thousandths of a sec- 
ond. It varies with many circumstances. It varies with 
different individuals, with the same individual in differ- 
ent senses, with practice, fatigue, state of health, inten- 
sity of attention, and whether the attention is fixed upon 
the hand that receives the impression or the hand that 
responds by pressing the key. But no matter how much 
variation there may be, there is always a measureable 
reaction time, and it is never reducible much below 100 
thousandths of a second. 

4 — It requires from twelve to twenty times as long to 
traverse a given distance in the brain as a corresponding 
distance in a nerve. 

This fact has been recognized by every one who has 
ever investigated the matter. Helmholtz, Wundt, James, 
Kibot, Ladd, all have asserted it unqualifiedly. In a nerve 



36 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

the rate of transmission is constant and relatively rapid. 
The rate of transmission does not vary widely from 100 
feet in a second, which, while it is very slow in compari- 
son with the speed of light, electricity, or even sound, is 
rapid compared with the rate of transmission through a 
brain center. In a brain center the rate is slow and ex- 
ceedingly variable. 

Let us take a concrete example, from an experiment 
in the writer's classes. One student shows a reaction 
time of 187 thousandths of a second. The distance that 
the impulse travels from the point on the hand that is 
touched up to the brain is about three feet. The distance 
from the brain to the muscle that moves the finger which 
presses the key is about three feet. The nervous impulse, 
then, must travel six feet in the nerve. But the rate of 
transmission in the nerve is about 100 feet in a second, 
so in order to travel six feet, six one-hundredths of a sec- 
ond is required. The remainder of the time, which is 127 
thousandths of a second, is the time required to traverse 
that portion of the brain which constitutes a part of the 
nervous arc. The nervous impulse must pass through 
the touch center on the right hemisphere, go along an asso- 
ciation fibre over to the motor center for the hand on the 
left side of the brain, and go through the motor center. 
This distance in the brain cannot be greater than six 
inches, and may be much less than that. Then too, the 
rate of transmission between the two centers if it is along 
an association fiber, is the same rate as the transmission 
in a nerve, which still further diminishes the distance 
that we need to consider. At any rate, the distance of 
six inches is the greatest possible that we can estimate 
it to be, and any shorter distance renders the demonstra- 
tion so much the more impressive. 

Let us suppose that this time, 127 thousandths of a 
second, is the time required for the nervous impulse to 
travel six inches in the brain. To go one foot would re- 



THE DATA 37 

quire twice that time, or 254 thousandths of a second; 
and to go 100 feet would require 100 times as long or 
25.4 seconds. So we see that in this case, the time of 
tiansmission is more than twenty-five times as great as 
is that of transmission for the same distance in a nerve. 

How shall we account for the slow rate of transmission ? 
There must be some condition in the brain center in which 
it differs from a nerve, that makes the transmission slow. 
The effect of this condition we may call resistance, with- 
out determining what may be its nature or its cause. 

5 — Our fifth significant proposition is that no feeling 
in ordinary circumstances accompanies the transmission 
of an impulse along a nerve, but feeling is experienced 
only when a nervous impulse passes through a brain cen- 
ter. 

The evidence of this is found in the phenomena of re- 
flex action. A reflex act is the direct response of the 
protoplasm to a stimulus without the mediation of an 
intellectual process. There is no feeling accompanying 
the pupillary reflex, nor of the knee jerk, and any other 
reflex is of the same nature. It is true that, after the re- 
flex has occurred, a recognition of it may establish a men- 
tal process that may be accompanied by a feeling of sur- 
prise, or some other kind of a feeling, but the feeling comes 
as a result of the transmission of a nervous impulse 
through a brain center, and not the transmission through 
the nerve that has been traversed in giving rise to the re- 
flex activity. 

It will be noted above that I have said under ordinary 
circumstances. In pathological cases, such as neuritis, 
where there is an inflammation of the nerve tissue itself, 
there is much feeling, much pain, accompanying the trans- 
mission along a nerve. But this is merely another fact 
that corroborates the proposition about to be advanced, 
that the feeling varies as the resistance encountered 
varies. I know of no measurement of the transmission 



38 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

rate through a diseased nerve, as in cases of neuritis, but 
we should expect that the rate would be slower and in- 
dicative of a greater resistance encountered. 

6 — Practice diminishes reaction time. The amount of 
this diminution is easily measured in any particular in- 
dividual, but every person shows improvement as the 
result of practice in reacting to a chronoscope. But we 
need no chronoscope to demonstrate the fact that a per- 
son by practice becomes more skillful in the execution of 
any act, and the amount of improvement that may be 
made in performing complicated acts and series of acts is 
a constant source of amazement. The fingers of a skillful 
piano player indicate the exceeding rapidity with which 
it is possible to execute muscular movements, and the in- 
crease in rapidity with which nervous impulses may be 
transmitted. 

It will readily be recognized that there is a physio- 
logical limit to the degree of improvement, and the 
amount of decrease that is possible by practice, but in 
such cases as that just mentioned, it seems that the limit 
closely approximates the rate of transmission in a nerve 
itself. When such an approximation has been made, the 
action closely resembles a reflex, and partakes of the re- 
flexive character in being accompanied by diminished 
feeling. 

7 — This brings us to our seventh significant fact, that 
feeling tends to disappear from an habitual experience. 

This is a fact of every day experience and observation. 
The process that is accompanied by delightfully pleasant 
feelings at first, ultimately begins to pall, and finally be- 
comes, not painful, but monotonous, and no longer cap- 
able of furnishing pleasure. Then we feel the necessity 
of making a change. It may be that the road we follow 
in passing to our school or daily work becomes monoton- 
ous, and we desire to change our route. The arrange- 
ment of the furniture in our room no longer seems to us 



THE DATA 39 

so satisfactory as it did at first, and a new arrangement 
is desirable. The same dishes on the table every day 
lose their attractiveness. We occasionally like to listen 
to a new preacher, or a new teacher, or a new lecturer. 
Change is necessary to keep away monotony. The feel- 
ings we experience when we look at a picture upside down, 
or a landscape with our head inverted, or a scene on the 
ground glass of a camera, are very different from those 
that are felt when seeing them in the ordinary position. 

Even acts that are at first painful may lose their pain- 
ful character, become pleasurable, and end by becoming 
monotonous. Such seems to be the case with reading. 
The process of learning to read is frequently a painful 
process, not only to a little child but to a grown-up. 
Any one who recalls his experience in learning a new lan- 
guage remembers that after a sufficient amount of expe- 
rience it ceased to be painful, became pleasant, and ulti- 
mately the reading itself, in which the painful or pleas- 
ureable character inhered, was monotonous. 

8 — Keaction time in children is greater than in grown- 
ups, and reaction time is greater in uneducated persons 
than in educated ones. 

In making this statement in a general way it must be 
recognized that there is a great deal of individual varia- 
tion, so that the truth of it will be manifested only when 
we take the average of large numbers of each class of 
persons indicated. There are some children whose reac- 
tion time will be shorter than is that of certain grown- 
ups, and there are individual persons who are unedu- 
cated who will manifest a shorter reaction time than 
other persons who are educated. But there can be no 
question that the average of a large number of persons 
of each kind will show that the rule as stated above is 
true. 

This would seem to imply, also, that the kind of expe- 
rience incident to growth, in the case of children, and of 



4:0 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

education in the case of educated persons, involves the 
kind of practice that results in the decrease of reaction 
time. Growth in children, and a better organization of 
the brain centers, formation of association fibers, prac- 
tice and experience, the continuous traversing of the brain 
tissue by impulses in all directions, naturally leads to 
such modifications of the brain tissue and brain centers 
as to facilitate transmission in every way. The same 
explanation is possible in the case of educated persons. 
The processes of education demand much mental expe- 
rience, causing portions of the brain to be traversed by 
impulses which, without them, would be scarcely touched. 
The statement will hardly be denied, and there will be 
little trouble experienced in understanding that it is a 
natural result from the great variety of neural expe- 
riences incident to growth and to education. 

9 — Little children and uneducated persons are more 
influenced by their feelings than are grown-ups and edu- 
cated persons. 

Little children are admirable examples of exaggerated 
feelings. It seems as if the life of a little child is largely 
of that nature. Children laugh or cry, doing one about 
as readily as the other, and one or the other process 
seems to be in progress a large part of the time. The 
child is scarcely an intellectual being, and is incapable 
of doing very much intellectual work of any kind. He 
acts in accordance with his feelings, and not in accord- 
ance with any judgment, such as an older person would 
inevitably make. In the ordinary course of development, 
the feelings come to be superseded by intellectual proc- 
esses, and no longer exercise the dominant place in the 
mental life of a child that they previously did. 

The same kind of a change occurs in the feelings of an 
educated person. It is among the uneducated, uncultured 
persons, that as a rule we find the feelings exercising a 
predominant influence. The actions of uneducated per- 



THE DATA 41 

sons are most likely to be determined by their likes and 
dislikes, their prejudices, suspicions, aversions, appetites, 
desires. They are extremely susceptible to influences, 
which in a higher degree of culture and education would 
produce little effect. 

In consequence of these facts, which scarcely admit of 
question, we are led to look with suspicion upon the ex- 
pression so frequently used by many writers, "The culti- 
vation of the feelings." If by cultivation of the feelings 
is meant such a course of treatment as will intensify 
them, the phrase is altogether misleading and wrong. 
The feelings are most intense before any cultivation is 
attempted. The only rational meaning that can be put 
into the phrase is to mean by it such a course of treat- 
ment as will result in a decrease in intensity of feelings, 
and a substitution of some other element in mental life 
as a determining factor in the production of action. The 
phrase seems to have originated in a thorough misappre- 
hension of the nature of feeling. It is possible to culti- 
vate the intellectual processes, and the assumption seems 
to be made that the feelings are correlative to the intel- 
lectual processes or powers, and are to be cultivated in 
the same way. A proper understanding of the nature of 
feeling will show that such a conception is thoroughly 
unjustified, and that the cultivation of the feelings is 
really a cultivation of the intellectual processes of per- 
ception and judgment, leading to a proper determination 
of the things that it is desirable to experience feeling 
from, and the kind of feelings that ought to be expe- 
rienced in any given situation. 

10 — Pathological conditions may modify reaction time. 
It is noticeable that idiots have, in general, a very slow 
reaction time. In cases of degeneration, when a person 
sinks into a condition bordering upon idiocy, the reaction 
time becomes very much lengthened. The contrary effect 
is observed in those pathological cases that develop into 



42 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

acute mania. One of the symptoms of oncoming maniacal 
conditions is frequently a shortened reaction time. 

Even when the pathological conditions are not such as 
to be particularly noticeable, we can recognize that the 
reaction time will be modified in accordance with them. 
When a person feels stupid, or depressed, or fatigued, 
the reaction time is likely to be much lengthened. On 
the other hand, when there is noticed an excessively ner- 
vous condition, the reaction time is likely to be shortened. 

11 — Pathological conditions are associated with a 
deviation from a normal condition of feeling. 

Idiots are notoriously devoid of feeling. Not only are 
they feebly sensitive to physical conditions that in others 
are productive of pain, but their perception of touch, tem- 
perature, vision, and hearing are likely to be below the 
normal. In the cases of maniacs, we find that there is a 
heightened ' intensity of feeling. In many cases, one of 
the first symptoms of oncoming insanity is an increase in 
the disposition to become angry, or to experience an in- 
tensified feeling, usually of a painful character, although 
in the early stages, the increase in feeling may be of a 
pleasurable nature. 

It is a matter of common observation that the state of 
bodily health at any time modifies very much the nature 
and extent of our feelings. When we are fatigued, or 
hungry, or suffering from some other kind of physical 
pain, the things that would under ordinary conditions 
cause no apprehension or annoyance, will occasion serious 
worry. 

12 — No feeling is ever experienced that is not accom- 
panied by some kind of intellectual process. 

In the case of sensation, the sensation makes us ac- 
quainted with some quality of an object, and such an in- 
tellectual process may be accompanied by some kind of 
feeling. But the sensation must of necessity be discrimi- 
nated from the feeling that accompanies it. So no feeling 



THE DATA 43 

of exaltation nor rapture can ever be experienced without 
a perception of some kind of a situation accompanying 
it, and to which it is appropriate. The only way that we 
can experience any kind of a feeling, such as pride, is to 
contemplate or image the condition in which we take 
pride. We experience the feeling of anger only in con- 
templating some situation, either actual or imaginary, 
that is consonant with the feeling. No feeling is ever 
experienced alone. There is no such thing as a pure 
feeling. It may be that the feeling element and the in- 
tellectual element vary widely in the proportion of each, 
but the intellectual element can never completely disap- 
pear from any experience in which feeling is aroused. 

13 — The intellectual content of the mental process de- 
termines the kind of feeling. 

This is what Hoffding means when he says that the dif- 
ferences between feelings we must explain by means of 
the cognitive elements that are combined with them. 
{Psychology, p. 222.) It is true that the same situation 
may appeal to one person in such a way as to be accom- 
panied by one kind of feeling, while in another person the 
same incident may arouse a totally different kind of feel- 
ing. But we must understand that it is the perception 
of the entire situation which constitutes the intellectual 
process. The same occurrence or event gives rise to the 
perception of a whole series of relations in one person 
that are unobserved by another. This differei*-ce in what 
is perceived by the two persons arises in consequence of 
the different experiences, different amounts and kinds of 
knowledge of other things that bear a relation to it, and 
to the difference in the relation it holds to one's own life. 
The intellectual process that accompanies and determines 
the specific character of feeling consists of the perception 
of the entire series of circumstances. It is not merely 
that of the single event, but includes the remembered 
previous experience of the person. 



44 THE FEELINQS OF MAN 

These, then, are the things that appear to be significant 
and which need to fit into any theory of feeling that may 
be made. It is not meant that no other facts of feeling 
are known, but that we have here as wide a range of facts 
of diverse kinds as is necessary to enable us to form a 
comprehensive theory of feeling. When we have our 
theory advanced, we may test it by means of the other 
facts that are known. If it is not comprehensive enough 
to embrace all the other facts, our theory must be dis- 
carded or else modified into conformity with them. It 
may be that some of the facts already known, and which 
seem at first contradictory to our theory, are susceptible 
of such modification and interpretation that they not only 
fit into the theory itself, but furnish the strongest kind 
of an independent verification of it. At least, it is not 
in a multiplication of particulars that a satisfactory 
theory will be suggested. If we can find a theory that will 
fit all the facts here enumerated, we shall have probably 
a satisfactory theory for all observed facts, and one that 
will prove helpful in directing our further study of this 
most important process. 



Chapter IV. 
THE HYPOTHESIS. 

The nature of the hypothesis that will accord with all 
the facts recognized as significant, must be already evi- 
dent. When we bring into juxtaposition two such facts 
as that the rate of transmission of a nervous impulse is 
from twelve to twenty times as great through a nerve as 
through a brain center and that feeling is experienced 
only when an impulse is passing through a brain center, 
we are led to inquire if the slowness of the rate of trans- 
mission is not in some way associated with the establish- 
ment of the feeling. When we bring into juxtaposition 
two other facts, that practice decreases reaction time and 
that feeling tends to disappear from an habitual act, we 
shall have our previous supposition confirmed. In all of 
our significant data, we shall be able to see that there is 
some kind of a relation between the slowness of trans- 
mission and the intensity of feeling. We have called that 
condition which contributes to the retarding of a nervous 
impulse, and the consequent lengthening of reaction time, 
resistance. We shall be ready then, at once to state as 
a tentative working hypothesis, that feeling is the con- 
comitant of the resistance which a nervous impulse en- 
counters in passing through a nervous arc. 

The evidence that there is resistance to the transmis- 
sion of a nervous impulse is found principally in the fact 
of the slow rate of reaction time, and the more rapid rate 
of transmission in a nerve fiber than in a brain center. 
There will be little question in the mind of any one who 
recognizes that a nervous current is transmitted, that 
this current meets with resistance. The resistance has 

45 



46 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

been recognized by almost every physiologist and psy- 
chologist who has given thought to the matter, and refer- 
ence has already been made to such recognition. Hoff- 
ding, quoting Richet says, {Psychology, p. 223) that 
'Tain without memory and without radiation would be 
no pain at all. It is thus not of so simple nature as sen- 
sation. It probably presupposes the subduing of a great 
resistance in the central nerve organs." And again, 
(p. 37) "The ganglion itself exercises an inhibitory in- 
fluence upon the impulse, for as can be shown by experi- 
ment, the course of the nervous process is much slower in 
the brain and spinal cord than in the peripheral nerves." 
In Ziehen's Physiological Psychology we find the state- 
ment that "The sensation must have a certain inten- 
sity in order to overcome the resistance to conduc- 
tion in the intercentral paths and to produce motor ef- 
fects." So Ladd (Outlines, p. 174) remarks that "The 
nervous substance of the central organs offers a greater 
resistance to the progress of a nerve commotion than is 
offered by the nerver." Titchener, (Outline, p. 96) says 
"We know that nervous substance resists the incoming 
of stimulation. The resistance which it offers can be 
overcome only by stimuli of a certain strength." So 
Ribot, (Emotions, p. 84) says "When an excitation in- 
creases as we have seen, the number of muscular groups 
set into motion, resistance to transmission increases in 
the same proportion." And again, (p. 84) "The sensation 
of pain presupposes a reflex movement and an arrest of 
nervous conduction in the grey substance of the spinal 
marrow. It is this process of inhibition in varying de- 
grees that is felt by the consciousness as pain." 

It is necessary for us to have a clear understanding 
of what we shall mean by resistance, for by it we shall 
expect to explain and make clear many divergent, ob- 
scure, and apparently contradictory phenomena. We are 
using the word resistance in a slightly modified sense 



THE HYPOTHESIS 47 

from that in which it is employed in describing the phe- 
nomena of an electric current. As the term is used in 
electricity, it means the property of a conductor that 
tends to destroy or diminish the amount of current that 
passes through it. It is always considered as a property 
of the conductor, and its amount is measured in ohms. 
The effect of the resistance placed in a circuit is to dimin- 
ish the amount of electricity that is passing through the 
circuit, but there is a cumulative effect manifested in 
the heating of the wire that furnishes the resistance. 
With a current of a given electro-motive force, the amount 
of electricity that passes through the wire will vary in- 
versely as the resistance. With a given quantity of elec- 
tricity passing through the wire, the heating effect will 
vary directly as the resistance. 

When we use the term resistance in discussing the 
nervous current, we shall need to modify our conception 
of it somewhat. We shall consider resistance as not 
merely a property of the conducting nervous arc, but it 
will be measured by the amount of current which is de- 
stroyed. It will be seen that this definition is intended 
to cover two elements; first, the nature of the nervous 
arc, and second, the strength of the current. Resistance, 
then, in the sense in which it is proposed to use the term, 
depends upon two factors, both variables, and varying 
independently of each other. One is the nature of the 
nervous arc, and the other is the strength of the current. 

It will be seen that when we use the term resistance to 
mean the resultant of the two elements described, we may 
consider the concomitants of both the two as more nearly 
corresponding to the heating effect produced by the cur- 
rent of electricity. As the heating effect produced by the 
electric current depends not only upon the number of 
ohms resistance in the circuit, but also upon the electro- 
motive force and the amount of the current, so the re- 
sistance in the nervous arc will depend upon the strength 



48 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

of the current, as well as upon the nature of the nervous 
arc. 

The effect of the resistance is to diminish the quantity 
of energy that succeeds in passing through the nervous 
arc. If the nervous energy is increased, the quantity of 
energy that succeeds in overcoming the resistance offered 
by the nervous arc is greater, but a larger quantity is 
stopped out by the resistance in the arc itself. If we con- 
sider that quantity of nervous energy that is stopped out 
as the concomitant of feeling, we shall have a clear un- 
derstanding of what is meant by resistance. The resist- 
ance varies as the quantity of nervous energy that is 
stopped out or destroyed by the arc. 

We may state some of the laws of resistance in the fol- 
lowing manner. With a current of a given strength, re- 
sistance will vary with the nervous arc through which it 
is transmitted. The resisting power of any particular 
nervous arc will be modified by various circumstances. 
In the first place, repeated transmission of an impulse 
through the arc will diminish its resisting power. This is 
sometimes called the law of neural habit, and is one of 
the best known laws of nervous action. Its explanation 
is to be sought in the manner in which the molecular 
structure is restored after its equilibrium has been de- 
stroyed by the removal of atoms in the transmission of 
an impulse. We have here an opportunity to explain the 
way in which a habit is formed, and an insight into its 
neurological basis. 

But it is not merely the number of repetitions of an 
impulse through a nervous arc that decreases its resist- 
ance. The resistance in the arc will be modified more 
rapidly by a strong nervous impulse than it will by a 
weak one. A smaller number of repetitions of a strong 
nervous current will modify the resistance of the arc as 
much as a larger number of weak impulses. 

The resisting power of a nervous arc will be modified 



THE HYPOTHESIS 49 

not only by practice or habit, but by the blood supply at 
any particular time and the general pathological condi- 
tions of the nerve tissues. In cases of inflammation of 
the nerve tissue, or when it is acted upon by different 
kinds of drugs, such as chloroform, the resisting power 
of any given nervous arc to a current of given strength 
may be modified. 

A third method by which the resisting power of any 
given nervous arc may be modified is through the process 
of attention, whose discussion must be reserved for a sub- 
sequent chapter. 

A second law of resistance may be stated as follows : — 
In a given nervous arc, the amount of resistance encount- 
ered will vary directly with the strength of the current. 
In the statement of this law, it is not intended to give an 
exact mathematical expression of the relation between 
resistance encountered and current strength. It may be 
that the resistance will vary with the square, or some 
other function of the current strength. We have no 
means as yet of measuring the strength of a nervous cur- 
rent, nor has any unit been established for it; conse- 
quently, we have no means of measuring the amount of 
resistance offered by a nervous arc and no unit for it. 
It is, therefore, impossible to assert with any degree of 
confidence, what is the function that expresses the ratio 
of variation. But the problem of measuring the strength 
of the current and the amount of resistance is not at all 
hopeless. Neither have we any means of measuring the 
intensity of feeling, but we know that feelings vary in 
intensity. The problem of the future is to establish a 
unit for different psychological processes, and to devise 
means of measuring their intensity. 

As a consequence of our second law, we understand 
that if a current is feeble and weak, little resistance will 
be encountered in passing through a nervous arc, and 
there will be little modification of the arc by it. If a 



50 THE PEELINGS OP MAN 

current is strong, great resistance will be encountered, 
and much modification of the arc will result. 

There can be no question that nervous currents do vary 
widely in strength. The strength of the current at any 
time is dependent, in some degree at least, upon the 
amount of nervous tissue that is oxidized. Blood supply, 
plenty of food, pure air, sufficient exercise to quicken the 
heart beat and send the blood rapidly to the brain, are 
all conditions that tend to increase the amount of tissue 
oxidized, and the amount of energy liberated. Narcotic 
drugs tend to diminish the amount of oxidation of tissue, 
to weaken the strength of the current, to diminish resist- 
ance and to deaden feeling. 

We can readily recognize the fact, also, that a peri- 
pherally initiated impulse, which starts in some end 
organ of sense is in general stronger than a centrally 
initiated one. The force that originates the peripherally 
initiated impulse is generally greater than the force that 
originates a centrally initiated impulse. The external 
forces that act upon sense organs are sufficiently large, in 
many cases at least, to be measurable by physical means, 
while whatever the force may be that originates the cen- 
trally initiated impulse, it is scarcely likely to be meas- 
urable by any means that we now employ in our labora- 
tories. It is even possible to measure the pressure of 
light, which was believed for so many years to be abso- 
lutely lacking, but it is scarcely possible to measure the 
force that can decompose a molecule of protagon and 
deprive it of a small number of its atoms. 

It is very possible, too, that the end organs of senses 
are devices for multiplying the effects of the sensible 
forces, which is not likely to be true of the central cerebral 
organs. Both of these considerations enable us to under- 
stand why the peripherally initiated impulses are stronger 
than centrally initiated ones. 

Concerning the nature of the resistance, we are able to 



THE HYPOTHESIS 51 

say not much that is definite. We know little about it, 
but we know perhaps still less about the nature of the 
resistance in the case of an electric current. Why should 
an iron wire offer greater resistance to the passage of an 
electric current than does a copper wire of the same length 
and diameter? What is the property of iron or copper 
that makes it offer resistance? To such questions we can 
give no answer at all, and yet we are enabled to measure 
this resistance in the different wires with great accuracy. 

So there can be no question concerning the fact that 
there is resistance encountered in a nervous arc. Con- 
cerning its nature, we are almost as much in the dark 
as we are in the case of the electric current. Although 
we shall use again and again the analogy of the electric 
current, we must carefully discriminate the two, for an 
electric current is not a nervous current, nor is a nervous 
current one of electricity. That idea was abandoned al- 
most as soon as it was suggested, fifty years ago. 

If we adopt the view of the nature of a nervous current 
that was suggested in Chapter III, we may have a means 
of understanding something about the nature of the re- 
sistance. Let us assume that the nervous current con- 
sists of a change in successive molecules and that this 
change involves the transmission of one or more atoms 
from one molecule to the next. The strength of the cur- 
rent will be measured by the number of atoms that are 
transferred, and the probability, judging from the struc- 
ture of the molecule, is that the same number will be 
transferred between every pair of molecules. This will 
show us why it is that in case of a peripherally initiated 
impulse, the stronger stimulus will generate the greater 
current and correspond to a sensation of greater inten- 
sity. The atoms are not likely to be released with equal 
facility, but the first one to go will be the one that is held 
least strongly in the combination. The second one will 
demand a greater force to jar it loose, and the third will 



52 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

take more than the second. Hence it is that equal in- 
crements of stimulus will not correspond to equal incre- 
ments in current strength, and we have an explanation 
in physiological terms, of Weber's law. James has al- 
ready foreseen this explanation when he says (Psychol- 
ogy, vol. I, p. 548) "If our feelings resulted from a condi- 
tion of the nervous molecules which it grew ever more 
difficult for the stimulus to increase, our feelings would 
grow at a slower rate tliau the stimulus itself. An ever 
larger part of the latter's work would go to overcoming 
the resistances, and an ever smaller part to the realiza- 
tion of the feeling-bringing state. Weber's law would 
thus be a sort of law of friction in the neural machine." 
In this quotation the word feeling is used in a different 
sense from that which is employed in this book, but the 
principle of resistance is well expressed. 

There will be little difficulty in understanding that the 
amount of resistance encountered in one molecule or in 
one cell will be very slight compared with that which is 
encountered when an atom is compelled to pass from a 
molecule of one cell to a molecule of another cell. While 
it is true that some kind of force must be expended in 
doing the internal work of a molecule, rearranging its 
atoms to produce the change from a colloidal to a crystal- 
loidal state, the change is slight compared with that re- 
quired to transmit an atom from one cell to another 
through the intervening space. 

In order that there may be a current, the nervous im- 
pulse must be prevented from leaving the conductor and 
spreading out indiscriminately over the brain tissue. 
The analogy of the electric current will help us here. The 
conductor of electricity must be insulated to prevent the 
current from leaving it, and the conductor of a nervous 
current must also be insulated. In the case of a nerve, 
the medullary sheath probably serves as the insulator. 
Evidence of this proposition may be found in the fact that 



THE HYPOTHESIS 53 

until the nerves become medullated they are non-func- 
tional, and medullation is considered a symptom of func- 
tional capacity. Also we must recall that the medullary 
sheath disappears at the extremity of the nerve fiber, 
which is the place at which the current leaves the fiber 
to pass its influence on into the organ with which it is 
connected. The medullary sheath is also absent from the 
origin of the nerve fiber, but at this place the cell from 
which it springs is surrounded with neuroglia. While 
some writers have supposed that the function of the medul- 
lary sheath is largely nutritive, the evidence seems to be 
strong that insulation is an important part of it. 

The molecules that constitute the axis cylinder of the 
nerve fiber are in physiological contact with each other. 
It is not necessary to suppose that they are in physical 
contact, but their distances from each other are molecular 
in extent and an atom flying off from one can easily pass 
directly to another. In this structure we have an expla- 
nation of the comparatively rapid rate of transmission 
of the impulse in a nerve. 

But the cells of the brain, the neurons, are not in 
physiological contact with each other. They are em- 
bedded in neuroglia, which furnishes them a support, 
and a kind of packing material, isolating one cell from 
another, and serving as an insulator. It may be that the 
neuroglia has also a nutritive, as well as other functions, 
but it seems extremely probable that the insulating func- 
tion is the most important that it has. The tips of the 
dendrites and the terminal arborizations of the dendrites 
and the axons in the brain in no case come into direct 
physical contact with each other, and are separated by 
such distances that they are, under ordinary circum- 
stances, not even in physiological contact. The trans- 
mission of an impulse through a brain center from one 
neuron to another is mediated by the neuroglia, through 
a small layer of which, sometimes called the synaptic 



54 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

membrane, it must go when an impulse passes from one 
neuron to another. The flying atoms or corpuscles must 
pass through it, and it seems as if in this fact we have an 
explanation of the resistance that is encountered, and the 
reason why the rate of transmission is slower in the brain 
center than it is in the axis cylinder of the nerve fiber. 

If this hypothesis is capable of demonstration, we have 
grounds for another speculation which is closely accordant 
with the latest and best observations that have been made. 
That is, that the concomitant of the feeling process, as 
well as of any other mental process, is the change that 
occurs at the tips of the dendrites, or just at the place, 
called the synapse, where the transfer of an impulse from 
one cell to another occurs, rather than as is ordinarily 
supposed, in the cell body itself. Thus Morat, (Physiol- 
ogy of the Nervous System, p. 26) says: "It seems in- 
deed that it is here [at the point of junction of the neu- 
rons] that the principal transformations which the im- 
pulse undergoes in passing through the gray matter, take 
place. Fundamentally, what is described as a center is 
merely a locality where the neurons are able to organize 
themselves into a definite system (partial) in order to 
perform a definite function." It is probable that the cell 
body is the location rather of the nutritive function of the 
cell, and of the katabolic processes of oxidation by which 
the nervous energy is liberated, than of the process which 
is the concomitant of the mental function. The expres- 
sion which is a favorite one with some writers, that in 
the cell impressions are stored, is one whose use is much 
to be regretted. 

We have then, in the neuron, two distinct functions, 
whose concomitants it is necessary to differentiate clearly. 
We shall have occasion to refer to the two differing func- 
tions in discussing the process of attention and the 
esthetic feeling. For psychology, the one is as important 
as the other, but they manifest themselves in different 



THE HYPOTHESIS 55 

ways. Not only is the function of the cell body a nutri- 
tive one, but in it is located also that process which ren- 
ders the nutritive function necessary, and without which 
it would be useless. The katabolic processes go on in the 
cell at an equal rate with the anabolic. But the katabolic 
processes liberate energy which is the property upon 
which the strength of the nervous current depends. But 
all processes properly mental have their concomitants in 
the process involved in the transfer of the impulse from 
one cell to the other, which transfer occurs at the terminal 
arborizations of the axons and dendrites. The discrimina- 
tion of these two functions of the neuron will help us to 
understand and to explain many things that otherwise 
would be mystifying or appear to be contradictory to our 
hypothesis. 

It is our purpose next to inquire what reason we have 
for identifying this resistance with the concomitant of 
feeling. It will be difficult for us to adhere to our method 
of describing feeling and resistance as concomitants, for 
the temptation is great to consider feeling as a function 
of resistance, and caused by it. We speak of heat as the 
result of the resistance in the case of the electric current, 
and no harm is done. But in psychology, it is necessary 
to limit our statement of the relation merely to that of 
concomitance. If we could employ the word function 
in the mathematical sense, without danger of being mis- 
understood, we should have an accurate statement of the 
case without deviating from our doctrine of parallelism 
or correspondence. 

The evidence that feeling is the concomitant of resist- 
ance depends largely upon the facts of concomitant varia- 
tion. Wherever we are able to demonstrate increased re- 
sistance, we are able to perceive an increase in feeling. 
Wherever we are able to show that resistance has been 
diminished, we observe a corresponding decrease in feel- 
ing. This is especially noticeable in habit and in case of 



56 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

narcotics. Such a theory will also enable us to explain 
why it is so very difficult to remember, recall, reinstate a 
feeling. We may remember that we have experienced a 
feeling, and may even reinstate it in a mild way, but the 
reinstated or remembered feeling is much fainter in every 
respect than was the feeling accompanying the original 
experience. We have but to recognize the fact that a cen- 
trally initiated impulse is weaker than a peripherally 
initiated one and therefore encounters less resistance, 
in order to understand why it is so difficult to reinstate 
a feeling, and why remembered feelings are less vivid than 
are the feelings accompanying the original experience. 

But the strongest evidence of the truth of this hy- 
pothesis will be found in its general conformity to every 
fact of feeling that we know. It must be proved, as any 
other hypothesis must, by its ability to explain the facts 
that are known, associating them under one principle, 
and to be contradicted by none. Also, if it enables us to 
predict facts that are as yet undiscovered, and then we 
are able to verify our prediction by discovering the facts, 
we shall have decidedly convincing evidence of the truth 
of the hypothesis. All of these things it is possible to 
do by means of this theory. The larger part of the re- 
mainder of this book will be devoted to a discussion of the 
facts of feeling which find their explanation only in some 
hypothesis such as this. 

We have seen that there is indubitable evidence of a 
delay in the transmission of a nervous impulse through a 
brain center, while there is not so great delay in the trans- 
mission through a reflex arc. We have accounted for this 
delay in transmission through the brain center by the fact 
that the nervous impulse encounters resistance. Here, 
then, we have a difference and a means of distinguishing 
between the nervous impulse that is accompanied by a 
mental process and a reflex that is not. Hence we are 
compelled to recognize that this delay, hesitation, resist- 



THE HYPOTHESIS 57 

ance in the brain center is a concomitant of every kind 
of mental process. If it were not for this delay, we should 
have no kind of a mental process except that which is in- 
volved in a reflex act. It is scarcely too much to say that 
all of our mental processes are associated with this delay 
arising out of resistance. Perception, judgment, atten- 
tion, reasoning, feeling, consciousness, memory, will,— all 
of these mental processes find their concomitants in the 
physiological processes involved in this delay. This is 
the interpretation that we may put upon Mr. Spencer's 
statement that all mental processes arise out of feeling. 

If all mental processes have their concomitants in some 
feature of this delay, why do we single out feeling as the 
concomitant of the resistance itself? Why is not resist- 
ance the concomitant of cognition, attention, or con- 
sciousness ? 

It will be observed that in the statement of the hypoth- 
esis we have used the term resistance in a very technical 
sense, comparable to the use that is made of it in case of 
an electric current. There are various elements of a cur- 
rent, such as driving force, field of influence, work done, 
methods of directing it, resistance, etc. No current can 
exist without all of them. Every current not only en- 
counters some resistance but it must have a conductor, 
there must be some driving force, it is capable of doing 
some work, it is directed by various means, it exer- 
cises some influence upon the surrounding space or upon 
objects that are near. Resistance is only one of these ele- 
ments, and it is the only one of them that can be consid- 
ered as the concomitant of feeling, and used to explain 
its phenomena. If we undertake to associate the phe- 
nomena of cognition, or intellect, with the fact of resist- 
ance, we encounter insuperable difficulties. When the 
conditions of body and brain are such as to establish 
great resistance, and manifest a slow rate of transmis- 
sion, the amount of feeling is increased but the amount 



58 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

of intellectual work that we are capable of doing is not 
increased, but diminished. So when we test it by trying 
to explain the phenomena of memory, will, attention, or 
consciousness, we shall find corresponding difficulties. 
Resistance seems to be the only element of the nervous 
current that varies concomitantly with feeling, and every 
phenomena of feeling finds its appropriate explanation in 
resistance. From this fact we determine the concomitance 
between resistance and feeling. We shall discover that 
each of the other elements of the nervous current has its 
appropriate mental concomitant. So while the delay 
arising out of resistance is necessary to the establishing 
of every process called mental, it is the resistance in a 
technical sense that must be described as the concomitant 
of feeling. 

We have tried to avoid a form of statement that would 
imply a causal connection between the resistance and 
feeling. But the question naturally arises: "What is 
the connection between feeling and resistance?" We are 
as utterly unable to answer this question as we are to 
answer any other question that demands a statement of 
the ultimate relation between mind and body. Why we 
should experience any kind of a mental process when a 
nervous impulse traverses one brain center, and another 
kind of a process when an impulse traverses a different 
brain center, is equally unknown. Why we should expe- 
rience much feeling when much resistance is encountered 
in the brain center, and little feeling when the resistance 
is small, is merely another form of putting the same in- 
scrutable question. We may accept it as a fact in the 
same way that we accept any other ultimate fact. We 
are no less able to answer one of these questions than we 
are to answer the question why copper conducts electric- 
ity, or why a body unsupported falls to the ground. We 
can associate the phenomena of mental life with other 
processes that have been developed through the ages by 



THE HYPOTHESIS 59 

the process of natural selection working upon fortuitous 
variation, and transmitted by heredity. The nervous 
system seems to have been developed in such a way that 
those individuals in whom resistance in the brain center 
was accompanied by feeling have had the best chance for 
survival, and have left the larger number of descendants. 
So far as this is any explanation we may adopt it. Be- 
yond this point we are unable to go. 

Synopsis. 

1 — Feeling is the concomitant of the resistance which 
a nervous current encounters in passing through a ner- 
vous arc. 

2 — Nearly all psychologists have recognized the fact 
that a nervous impulse encounters resistance. 

3 — Resistance depends upon two factors; the nature of 
the nervous arc and the strength of the current. This 
fact necessitates the postulation of two laws for resist- 
ance, and two laws for feeling. 

4 — While all mental processes are associated with the 
delay in transmission, it is only feeling that can be de- 
scribed as the concomitant of resistance. 

5— The general evidence of the truth of the hypothesis 
is to be found in the facts of concomitant variation, and 
in the possibility of explaining every fact of feeling by 
means of it. 



Chapter V. 
THE EXPEESSION OF FEELING. 

Whenever a feeling is experienced, it is accompanied by 
some muscular movement or glandular activity that is 
called its expression. The muscles of the face are par- 
ticularly expressive muscles, although perhaps a very 
large part of their expressiveness comes from the fact that 
the face is most commonly exposed to view, and we have, 
therefore, learned to interpret the facial movements better 
than the movements of any other part of the body. We 
can tell by the movements that the facial muscles make, 
very nearly the kind of feeling that a person is experi- 
encing. When we see the corners of the mouth drawn 
down, the forehead wrinkled, the eyebrows drawn to- 
gether, we feel very confident that the immediate prospect 
does not appear to that individual in the most roseate 
colors. If we observe the corners of the mouth elevated, 
the eyelids raised rather more than usual, the chin lifted, 
we know that the outlook is not such as to plunge him 
into the depths of despair. So the facial muscles are 
capable of expressing emotions of the most bewildering 
variety. 

We have had so much opportunity for observing the 
expression of emotion upon a person's face, that we have 
become exceedingly skillful in interpreting the most 
minute indications of it. The amount of movement which 
it is necessary for the facial muscles to make in order for 
us to recognize a change in the feeling experienced, is so 
exceedingly small as to be almost incalculable. The com- 
bined action of several muscles each in an exceedingly 
small degree, produces such an amazing complexity of ex- 

61 



62 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

pression that it is almost impossible to analyze a single 
one out of the great number, and yet, as a result of long 
experience in observing them, we readily recognize each. 

We are so much accustomed to judging of a person's 
feelings by the movement of the facial muscles, that we 
almost forget that other muscles are as truly expressive 
as are the muscles of the face. It is universally known 
that the heart beats differently when we are experiencing 
one kind of feeling from what it does when we are ex- 
periencing another kind. The rate of beating, and the 
vigor of the stroke are correlative to the appropriate kind 
of feeling. The muscles that are employed in breathing 
also modify their activity when we are experiencing dif- 
ferent kinds of feeling. If our feelings are such as have a 
painful tone, the action of the diaphragm and the inter- 
costal muscles is likely to be such as to diminish the 
amount of air that enters the lungs at one inspiration, 
while if the feeling experienced has a pleasurable tone the 
inspiration is likely to be deeper and fuller. The muscles 
that move the visceral organs also act in a different way 
when we are experiencing one kind of feeling from that in 
which they move when we are experiencing another kind. 
The muscles that control the dimensions of the arteries 
and the smaller bloodvessels respond to the influences as- 
sociated with the different kinds of feelings, and produce 
the changes of blushing and pallor, a strictly muscular 
expression. So we recognize that the facial muscles, the 
respiratory muscles, the visceral muscles, the circulatory 
muscles, and the heart are all muscles expressive of 
feeling. 

Not merely the muscles that move these different inter- 
nal organs express feeling, but also the larger muscles that 
control the legs and arms, the head and the entire body 
are equally expressive. We understand the state of feel- 
ing of a person perhaps as well by the movement of the 
hands, the way he jerks his head, the nervous tapping of 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 63 

the foot, as by the expression of the face itself. The very 
attitude of the body expresses confidence, fear, apprehen- 
sion, or any other feeling. By the attitude of his body 
when he is walking along the street, we can judge of a per- 
son's frame of mind, and something of the feelings that 
he is experiencing. The erect carriage, firm tread, head 
up, shoulders back, express a state of mind that is easily 
recognized without even a glimpse of the face, while the 
stooping posture, drooping shoulders, hanging head, and 
slow, hesitating movement of the feet in walking indicate 
a feeling of a very different kind. We can tell that a man 
is angry if we see no more than his back when he is walk- 
ing away from us. We say that he is mad clear through. 
The muscles that control the movement and attitude of 
the body are as truly expressive as are the muscles of the 
face. 

Not merely the voluntary muscles that are often called 
into action express feeling, but some muscles that are 
vestigial and no longer have any function in the ordinary 
movements are expressive. The little muscle at the root 
of each hair in the scalp is a vestigial muscle which in 
some cases of extreme fright is stimulated to contraction, 
tending to cause the hair to stand erect upon the head. 

The expression of feeling is not limited, however, to the 
movement of muscles. It is a most common observation 
that children weep, shedding tears when they are experi- 
encing a strong feeling of grief or anger. The lachrymal 
glands secrete more abundantly when grief is experienced 
than when it is not. So the contemplation of a luscious 
watermelon or other particularly attractive articles of 
food is likely to establish such a feeling that, as we say, 
"our mouths water." The salivary glands secrete their 
proper fluid in greater abundance when we are experienc- 
ing the feeling that accompanies the sight of a much 
desired article of food. When we are badly frightened, 
a cold sweat breaks out. The sudoriparous glands secrete 



64 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

more abundantly than usual when we are experiencing 
the feeling of intense fear. The ordinary stimulus for 
the secretion of perspiration is heat, but in the case of 
cold sweat, the stimulus is not heat, but a nervous impulse 
is directed to the glands by some other means, and the 
sweat instead of being hot, as is usually the case, is cold. 

Glandular secretion, then, is another expression of feel- 
ing, and there is little doubt that under the stimulus of 
an appropriate feeling, almost any gland in the body may 
be caused to secrete so that its activity would properly be 
an expression of the feelings. Glands are like muscles in 
the fact that their secretion is determined by the stimula- 
tion of a nervous impulse. If any gland were to be de- 
prived of its nervous connection, and an impulse fail to 
run out to it, the function of the gland would be at once 
destroyed. The gland secretes and the muscle contracts 
when a nervous impulse runs out to it, and if no impulse 
reaches either the gland or the muscle the function of that 
organ is not accomplished. Any really valid explanation 
of the expression of feeling must explain how it is that a 
nervous impulse runs out to the expressive organ. 

Occasionally the paralysis of a gland or a muscle is an 
expression of feeling. In cases of great fear, some per- 
sons are paralyzed and incapable of moving. It is said that 
in a method of criminal trial in India, the suspected person 
is compelled to eat a rice cake. It is presumed that if he is 
guilty, he cannot swallow the cake, while if he is not, 
then no difficulty is experienced in eating it. The ex- 
planation is that when a person who knows he is guilty 
is put on trial, he is so affected that the salivary glands 
are paralyzed, failing to secrete saliva, and the cake is 
ground into a dry powder which cannot be swallowed. 
The innocent person is not so affected and, not experi- 
encing the same kind of feeling, his salivary glands are 
not paralyzed, and no difficulty is encountered in eating 
the cake. 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 65 

In some instances a nervous impulse carried to a muscle 
inhibits its activity. An impulse carried to the heart 
along the vagus nerve causes the beating of the heart to 
cease. Similarly, stimulation of certain centers in the 
medulla from which impulses lead to the respiratory mus- 
cles, inhibits their activity. So we may readily under- 
stand that if an impulse is sent along the proper nerve to 
a gland or to a muscle, its appropriate activity will be 
checked, or temporarily destroyed. Either inhibition or 
activity of gland or muscle may constitute an expression 
of feeling. In order that the inhibition may constitute 
expression, however, it must be the result of a nervous 
impulse reaching the gland or muscle along the proper 
inhibitory nerve. The essential feature of the expression 
is an impulse running out to the organ whose activity is 
recognized by us as an expression. 

It is in the expression of feelings that the James' theory 
differs most widely from the common theory. The com- 
mon theory asserts that the feeling is experienced first and 
the expression follows; the feeling is the cause of the 
expression. In this common theory, no plausible reason 
can be given for the expression. The feeling is the same 
whether it is expressed or not, and the expression seems 
to have no use except perhaps as a means of communica- 
tion. It is even supposed by some psychologists that the 
mobility of the facial features is part of a design for ren- 
dering expression possible, and some features and some 
muscles find their only function in expressive movements. 

In the James theory, the expression causes the feeling. 
Without the expression, there is no feeling. The principal 
difference, then, is in the order of the feeling and the 
expression. 

If we interpret expression in terms of the resistance 
theory, we shall see that expressive movements arise as a 
consequence of the resistance that a nervous impulse en- 
counters in passing through a nervous arc. Whenever a 






66 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

current encounters resistance, it follows the path in which 
the least resistance is encountered. Any kind of current, 
water, electricity, or nervous, will have its path deter- 
mined by the resistance it meets. The amount of current 
that goes over two conductors extending between the same 
two points is inversely proportional to the relative 
amounts of resistance offered by each. 

In this respect a nervous current is similar to any other. 
It will spread out into the direction in which the least 
resistance is offered. The resistance of a brain center, as 
we have seen in a previous chapter, is capable of being 
modified by at least three circumstances : habit, attention, 
and natural constitution or heredity. 

The fact that a nervous impulse radiates out of the 
brain center through which it is passing, and in which it 
is the concomitant of a particular kind of feeling, is recog- 
nized by many psychologists. Baldwin says: "In adult 
life, also, very intense stimulations cannot be held within 
their ordinary channels, but become diffused through 
many courses. Note the contortions of the man under- 
going torture at the hands of a dentist." (Handbook, II, 
p. 296.) Spencer remarks: "That every special pleasure 
or pain does produce a peripheral or central diffused 
effect is clear. . . . Much more then, does it spread 
through those more directly related parts of the nervous 
system which are the seats of conscious action." (Psy- 
chology, I, p. 599.) So Darwin has stated that "when the 
sensorium is strongly excited, nerve force is generated in 
excess, and is transmitted in certain definite directions, 
depending upon the connection of the nerve cells and 
partly upon habit." (Emotions, p. 29.) Again quoting 
Darwin : "The radiation of nerve force from strongly ex- 
cited nerve cells to other connected nerve cells may help 
us to understand how some reflex actions originated." 
(p. 41.) And again: "On the principle of radiation of 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 67 

nerve force to adjoining cells, the lachrymal glands would 
be stimulated." (p. 170.) 

Admitting this principle, that when resistance to the 
transmission of a nervous impulse through a brain center 
is encountered, the nervous energy tends to flow over into 
the other centers where it encounters least resistance, we 
have an easy explanation of the expression of feeling. 
The resistance itself is the concomitant of feeling, but the 
resistance that is encountered causes the nervous impulse 
to flow out into other centers than those directly involved 
in the path of the current. It tends to overflow, radiate, 
spread out into other portions of the brain than that 
which constitutes the nervous arc itself. When this nerv- 
ous current, driven by the force behind it, and meeting 
with resistance in front, spreads out, it runs into those 
portions of the brain in the direction in which the least 
resistance is encountered. 

For the sake of avoiding circumlocution in the rest of 
this explanation, let us call the combination of cells which 
is traversed by an impulse when a particular feeling is 
experienced, the feeling center; and the combination of 
cells into which the nervous impulse runs when a muscular 
or glandular action that constitutes the expression of that 
particular feeling occurs, the expression center. In this 
way, we may use short, definite, and clear expressions 
without danger of being misunderstood. 

The expressions of feeling most easily observed are these 
muscular movements. It becomes necessary to inquire 
why it is that this energy that escapes from the feeling 
center should run into the motor centers rather than into 
other portions of the brain. The motor areas are those 
that are the earliest organized. They are the centers 
whose functions are among the most necessary to the 
preservation of the life of the individual. They have from 
the first been connected closely with the operations of the 
other centers; such as the sight center, hearing, touch, 



68 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

taste, smell, and muscular sensation ; and the connection 
between the motor centers and other centers is very likely 
to be closer and more frequently traversed by impulses 
than is the connection between any other two kinds of 
centers, as for instance, between sight and hearing. Hence 
we should expect to find that in case of overflow of nervous 
energy from one center, or combination of cells, the radi- 
ating impulse would meet with less resistance in flowing 
into some motor center than in flowing into any other 
kind. 

When we take into account, also, that the motor area 
lies along the fissure of Rolando directly in the middle of 
the brain, we shall see that the passage into the motor 
area from almost any other portion of the brain is likely 
to be rendered very easy. Hence we shall expect to find 
that the resistance in a center sufficient to constitute the 
concomitant of any kind of feeling, is likely to be followed 
by some kind of a muscular movement. 

Whatever may be said of muscular movement as a form 
of expression, may be affirmed with less facility of demon- 
stration, of glandular activity. 

It is doubtful if the expression of feeling is really lim- 
ited to glandular secretion and muscular movement. On 
this principle of the expression as resulting from the over- 
flow of nervous energy, the activity of any brain center 
that results from the overflow would constitute an ex- 
pression of feeling. It is likely that many kinds of mental 
processes, each of a very moderate degree of intensity, 
that occur at the same time as the principal process, ought 
properly to be explained as expression of feeling. This is 
particularly true of consciousness, and constitutes the 
best possible explanation of the close relation between 
consciousness and feeling. Sometimes when a person be- 
comes very angry, he sees red. This intellectual sensation, 
with many others that will probably be discovered of a 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 69 

similar nature, properly constitutes an expression of 
feeling. 

In this explanation of the expression, we have a means 
of understanding the relation between the feeling and the 
movement that expresses it. The feeling is not the cause 
of the expression, as the common theory would assert, nor 
is the expression the cause of the feeling, as the James 
theory would affirm ; but both feeling and expression arise 
out of the same circumstance, the resistance that is en- 
countered by the nervous impulse in passing through a 
brain center. The expression does not precede the feeling, 
nor does the feeling precede the expression, but both feel- 
ing and expression arise at the same time, that being de- 
termined by the time that the resistance is encountered. 
The relation is one of concomitance and direct relation, 
and not of sequence nor causality. 

We have also in this explanation a means of under- 
standing the relation between the intensity of feeling and 
the magnitude of the expression. Since both are condi- 
tioned by the amount of resistance encountered, we can be 
logical only by asserting that the greater the resistance, 
the greater will be both the feeling and the expression. 
Since both feeling and expression vary with the resistance, 
they will vary with each other. Both will vary directly 
as the resistance encountered and as the resistance in- 
creases, so will both feeling and expression increase. In 
case of much feeling, not only the muscle that is usually 
considered the expressive muscle for that feeling will con- 
tract, but many muscles not considered expressive of that 
feeling at all will be thrown into contraction. This is the 
case referred to by Baldwin in the quotation about the 
man writhing in the dentist's chair. The overflow of 
energy escapes into the whole motor area, and every mus- 
cle in the body may be caused to contract in various de- 
grees by this influx. A feeling of smaller degree of inten- 
sity will be an accompaniment of less overflow, and only 



70 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

those centers most easy of access will receive an appreci- 
able quantity of it. 

We are now in position to demonstrate the true theory 
of the relation between the inhibition of the expression 
and the decrease of feeling. The James theory offers as 
one of its lines of evidence the fact that the inhibition of 
the expression inhibits the feeling. While we have already 
observed that in some cases this is known to be directly 
contrary to fact, in other cases it appears to be true. The 
resistance theory of feeling will enable us to bring into 
harmony the observations that appear to be directly con- 
tradictory. 

It has already been observed that the inhibition of cer- 
tain muscular activities, as in the case of paralysis from 
fear and the failure of some very ordinary glandular secre- 
tions, in itself constitutes the expression of the feeling. 
In order to inhibit such an expression we shall have to 
inhibit the inhibition, which is not, however, a paradox 
nor a contradiction in terms. 

In cases where the inhibition is a true expression, the 
nervous energy may be conceived to overflow into some 
center that is connected with the organ whose function is 
inhibited by a nerve similar to that of the vagus nerve of 
the heart. Here the inhibition is an expression, not really 
a process that comes within the limits of the evidence 
offered by Mr. James. 

In many cases we mean by inhibition the substitution 
of one mental process in which the feeling is much les- 
sened for another in which the feeling element is greater. 
"When angry, count ten; when very angry, count a hun- 
dred," said Jefferson. But when we are angry, we are 
contemplating a situation that may be very complex, in- 
volving many different elements, and the nervous impulse 
which is transmitted through all these combinations of 
brain cells is encountering much resistance. When we 
stop and count ten, we are directing the nervous impulse 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 71 

through a totally different combination, drawing off the 
nervous current from the combination in which resistance 
is encountered into another in which little resistance 
occurs. We thus diminish very much the intensity of the 
current running through the first combination, lessening 
the amount of resistance, and producing a lessened feeling. 

This is a very common example, and the type of illus- 
trations that is commonly used as evidence of Mr. James's 
proposition that inhibiting the expression inhibits the 
feeling. It is not strictly in point, and does not serve di- 
rectly the argument of Mr. James. How is it that a direct 
inhibition of the expression, without any substitution, may 
diminish the feeling? 

We have seen that one of the ways in which the amount 
of resistance may be decreased is by a process of attention. 
The explanation of the mechanism of this process must be 
deferred to a subsequent chapter, but we may accept it on 
faith for the present. Attention is a process by means of 
which nervous currents are directed into and through a 
brain center. The only mechanism by means of which the 
nervous impulse may be directed is one in which the re- 
sistance is varied, being increased in some directions and 
decreased in others. If by a process of attention, we are 
able to diminish the resistance that the nervous impulse 
encounters in passing through a brain center, we shall 
lessen its tendency to overflow out of the brain center, and 
diminish the amount of energy that escapes from the brain 
center into the expressive organs. This effect may be 
brought about without lessening the amount of intellectual 
work that may be accomplished by it. When we diminish 
the expression by means of lessening the resistance in the 
brain center, the same process diminishes the feeling. 

This explanation seems in every way understandable 
and explains the diminished feeling more satisfactorily 
than does the James theory. When we inhibit the ex- 
pression in this manner, we describe it by saying that we 



72 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

have reasoned ourselves out of the feeling. But let us ex- 
amine cases such as every one has himself experienced, 
and which seem to contradict directly the proposition of 
Mr. James. — These cases have been noted by Hoffding, 
quoted before : "The concealment of a feeling may cause 
it to penetrate deeper into the nature of the individual." 
(Psychology, p. 332.) In a good many cases, it seems as 
if the expression of feeling is one of the best means of 
diminishing its intensity; bottling it up merely increases 
it. The comfort of a "good cry" to many women is some- 
thing not to be denied. Not to cry, to inhibit the ex- 
pression, has no effect in diminishing the feeling. 

Attention directs the nervous impulse by varying the 
resistance between cells and centers. It may increase the 
resistance in one place, and diminish it in another. If we 
suppose that we increase the resistance between the feel- 
ing center and the expression center, without decreasing 
the resistance between the cells in the feeling center itself, 
we shall have inhibited the expression without inhibiting 
the feeling. While this may not be the usual action of at- 
tention, it will explain the results observed in the unusual 
cases. The inhibition of the expression without inhibiting 
the feeling is an unusual procedure at the best, but it does 
occur many times and every one has experienced it. 

Still another series of phenomena needs to be explained. 
The James theory asserts that giving expression to the 
feeling induces the feeling itself. While we have already 
seen that this is not universally true, that many times the 
expression of feeling may be observed without the feeling 
being experienced, that there is no causal connection be- 
tween the expression and the feeling, still there are cases 
in which it seems to be true. How shall we explain the 
examples in which the feeling seems to be engendered as 
a result of the expression? 

When we give expression to a feeling, a nervous im- 
pulse is traversing the expression center. If it is a true 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 73 

expression, the impulse has entered the expression center 
from the feeling center. But we may direct a nervous 
impulse into the expression center by an act of attention, 
without its having come from the feeling center, and we 
have the expression without the feeling. But we must 
suppose that the connection between the feeling center and 
the expression center is a very close one, with little re- 
sistance encountered by a nervous impulse in going from 
one to the other. If a nervous impulse is traversing the 
expression center it will easily flow over into the feeling 
center. If the amount of nervous impulse is great enough 
to encounter considerable resistance in the feeling center, 
the feeling will be experienced; moreover it will become 
greater as the amount of current that enters the feeling 
center is increased and as the resistance in the center be- 
comes greater. 

There is one consideration that seems to conflict with 
this explanation. We have assumed that the impulse will 
flow as readily from the expression center into the feeling 
center as it will from the feeling center into the expression 
center. Some observations seem to show that the nervous 
impulse always flows one way, not both. It is believed that 
the nervous impulse always enters the neuron by means of 
a dendrite, and leaves it by an axon. Without detracting 
from the accuracy of the observations from which this de- 
duction is made, we may question the universality of the 
conclusion. The observations from which the conclusion 
is drawn are made upon the ganglion cells in the spinal 
cord, and not in the brain. The spinal nerves and ganglia 
have never been called upon to transmit impulses in more 
than one way, their function does not demand it nor per- 
mit it, and when the experiment is made, the function of 
transmission in the unusual way is similar to that in an 
undeveloped cell. But in the brain, impulses have been 
transmitted in all ways throughout the life of the indi- 



74 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

vidual, and we are scarcely justified in admitting that the 
impulse will not go in either direction. 

In fact, it is demonstrable that the impulse will pass 
readily between two centers in either way. The sight of 
a bell will call up the sound of it, and the sound will call 
up its image. Hundreds of examples of this kind will show 
that the process is reversible, for the association of the 
auditory and visual images demand that a nervous impulse 
pass either way from one center to the other. But even if 
it is demonstrable that in a particular cell the impulse will 
pass in only one way, it still remains true that the impulse 
does pass both ways between combinations. The impulse 
may travel a different path in going from B to A from 
that which it travels in going from A to B, but practically 
the effect is the same as if the two paths were identical. 

It is now necessary for us to consider the question why 
certain feelings have the particular forms of expression 
that they do. Why should the one muscle contract when 
resistance is encountered in one brain center, and a dif- 
ferent muscle, when resistance is encountered in another ? 
The final and all-sufficient answer to explain the present 
expression is that the resistance between the two centers, 
the feeling center and its expression center, is less than it 
is between the feeling center and any other. But this is no 
explanation, and we still need to answer the question why 
it is that the resistance between these two centers is less 
than it is between the feeling center and any other. 

In some cases, habit may be sufficient to account for the 
diminished resistance between centers. A person who has 
from any cause contracted a habit of swearing as an ex- 
pression of anger or vexation, will almost unconsciously 
swear when any such feeling is experienced. So the 
pounding of the table as an expression of feeling may be- 
come such a habit that it unconsciously occurs when the 
feeling is experienced. Habit has resulted in rendering 
the transmission between feeling center and expression 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 75 

center easy. While this explanation fails to consider how 
or why the action was originally adopted as a form of ex- 
pression, it does explain how it comes to be merely a form 
of expression and meaningless as anything else. 

In many cases, the expression is some kind of an action 
that is now, or was in some former situation, useful. This 
useful action accompanying a feeling gave its possessor an 
advantage in the struggle for existence. It came into op- 
eration by variation, was fixed by natural selection and 
transmitted by heredity. Mr. Darwin was the first who 
pointed out the advantage of many such expressions of 
feeling, and the list is constantly extending. Examples 
of advantageous expressive actions are found in the snarl- 
ing of the dog, in which the lifting of the upper lip exposes 
the canine teeth rendering the animal ready for combat 
as well as warning a prospective antagonist of the pre- 
paredness of the dog. Mr. Darwin considers the wrink- 
ling of the forehead and the drawing together of the eye- 
brows as another example of such expressions. It is an 
attempt to see farther and more clearly in situations where 
the seeing is difficult, such as those in which the sun is 
shining in the eyes. So any feeling of perplexity that is 
similar to that manifested in trying to see under disadvan- 
tageous circumstances is likely to be expressed in the same 
manner. It is evident that the same or closely connected 
brain centers must be involved in the production of feel- 
ings that have the same expression. 

Children cry. The cry constitutes a very common and 
usual expression of pain. This expression is advantage- 
ous to the individual, for it is a demand by a helpless child 
upon a stronger person for assistance. This expression is 
so important that it is doubtful if the race would long sur- 
vive if it were obliterated withoi t some substitute replac- 
ing it. The crying is an expressi m whose nervous connec- 
tion is already organized at bin h. Hence it is that the 
movements involved partake of th 3 nature of a reflex, and 



76 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

as such it is possible to consider these movements not prop- 
erly expressive of feeling, but purely reflex actions. It 
makes little difference how we consider it. The crying 
muscles are already closely connected with the centers in 
which resistance is encountered, and with a great many 
feeling centers. 

Fear is a feeling having a painful tone, and it is of the 
greatest importance in preserving the lives of individuals. 
Not only is the feeling itself of importance, but equally so 
are its expressions. The expression of fear is not uniform, 
but changes with the character of the individual by whom 
the feeling is experienced. In a little child, or any other 
person accustomed to rely upon the assistance of others, 
the common expression of fear is a scream, which is a de- 
mand for assistance, and which frequently results in the 
escape of a child from a threatened danger. To run away 
from danger is an expression of fear found in less depend- 
ent classes of persons, which enables the individual to 
escape danger and to survive when, in many cases, to stand 
his ground would result in death. It is an advantageous 
expression. 

A third expression, that is less common and expressive 
of the most intense fear, is fear paralysis. It is manifested 
sometimes in man, more frequently in children, but is best 
exemplified in those animals which have the habit of feign- 
ing death. The opossum affords a well-known example, 
not because it is the best, but because fear paralysis is an 
unusual charcteristic in animals as highly organized as 
mammals. The habit is very common among beetles. 
Probably fifty species that manifest this expression have 
come under the writer's observation. While we cannot be 
assured that the feigning death is in beetles an expression 
of fear, the action is so similar to that of the opossum and 
of a man or a child that is paralyzed with fear, that we are 
inclined to attribute it to the same cause. This would 



THE EXPRESSION OF FEELING 77 

imply that beetles experience the feeling of fear, which 
would be very difficult to demonstrate. 

Feigning death is an action sometimes extremely advan- 
tageous, and enables an animal to escape from a danger- 
ous situation, especially if the danger arises from the 
threatened attack of some carnivorous animal. All kinds 
of animals perceive motion much more readily than they 
do color or form. An animal that remains perfectly mo- 
tionless in any kind of a situation is more likely to escape 
observation than if a slight movement is made. Nothing 
else will keep an animal so still as a paralysis, and fear 
seems to be expressed by a special kind. In man, it is 
probable that this form of expression was formerly more 
advantageous than it is at present. Hence it was fixed by 
heredity in the organization of the nervous system, and 
persists as a kind of vestigial characteristic whose useful- 
ness has largely disappeared. 

We see, then, what is meant by an advantageous expres- 
sion of feeling. In the instances cited, the advantage 
arises from the expression, but the feeling itself is advan- 
tageous to the individual. By the feeling the man is led to 
engage in some action which, although it can scarcely be 
called an expression, is directed by the intelligent judg- 
ment and leads to escape from danger, even though the 
method of escape has not resulted from the undirected 
overflow of the nervous energy out of the feeling center. 
The intelligent action indicates plasticity of nervous struc- 
ture and involves attention. Feeling expression implies 
more or less fixity of nervous structure, and does not de- 
mand voluntary attention. 

Many expressions of feeling that consist of glandular 
activity are advantageous. Not only can we discover a 
distinct advantage in the copious flow of tears in situa- 
tions that produce painful feelings in the eyes, and an ad- 
vantage in the secretion of the saliva when we contemplate 
food, but it has been demonstrated that in case of fear and 



78 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

anger, certain glands, such as the adrenal glands, produce 
a secretion that is favorable to a stronger contraction of 
the muscles, enabling the person to fight more vigorously 
or to exert more muscular force in running away. It is 
probable that many expressions of feeling for which we 
can at present discover no use, did in times past have some 
function appropriate to situations that no longer arise. 
Hence they are vestigial functions, the key to whose ex- 
planation has been lost. 

But there remains a large class of expressions that we 
are compelled to admit have no function at present, and 
certainly can have been of no advantage in any situation 
that we can conceive in the past. How shall we explain 
them ? The suggestion occurs at once, since we find so many 
expressions that are advantageous, may not all expres- 
sions have had some use some time in the life history of 
the race? Mr. Darwin has stated a principle of anti- 
thesis, to which he attributed a more or less advantageous 
function, but it may be discarded completely as an ex- 
planation, and all expressions attributed to it placed in the 
unexplained class. 

To attribute all expressions to the class that are de- 
scribed as advantageous, whether their present advantage 
is recognized or not, would be to assume that the course of 
development in expression was from the advantageous to 
the useless. The course of development has probably been 
exactly the other way. The resistance in the brain centers 
originally resulted in the overflow of the nervous energy 
into many expression centers indifferently, or into those 
centers offering the least resistance to entrance, and this 
differentiation of resistance was determined by causes so 
obscure that we may call it fortuitous. Many movements 
probably were expressive of the same feeling, just as at 
present intense feeling will manifest itself in many move- 
ments or in the contraction of many muscles. Some of these 
fortuitous movements proved advantageous, and were 



THE EXPRESSION OF PEELING 79 

f 

selected and preserved, displacing as a principal expres- 
sion all the others. Hence we recognize them today as the 
proper expression for the particular feeling. But it will 
not do to assume that a single movement constitutes the 
expression and no other movement could possibly do so. 
Not only such feelings as fear have more than one well 
recognized expression, but when we take into account the 
number of muscles that move, and the number of glands 
whose secretion is modified in connection with a strong 
feeling, we shall see that there are many movements that 
may be called the expression of a single feeling, and that 
every feeling, particularly if it becomes intense, may have 
numerous expressions. 

Synopsis. 

1 — The expression of feeling is some kind of muscular 
or glandular activity which accompanies the feeling, and 
may be regarded as an evidence that such feeling is experi- 
enced. Inhibition of the activity of a muscle or gland may 
sometimes constitute an expression of feeling. 

2 — The expression is caused by the overflow of a nervous 
impulse out of the feeling center into the expression cen- 
ter. This overflow of the nervous energy is caused by the 
resistance encountered. 

3 — Many forms of expression are advantageous, but 
many others are fortuitous. 



Chapter VI. 
THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING. 

Feelings differ from each other in several respects, and 
the means by which we distinguish them we may call their 
properties. We may discover at least three properties of 
feelings by means of which they may be discriminated 
from each other. 

Feelings differ from each other in their specific charac- 
ter, by which we mean that they are of different kinds. We 
may define the specific character of feeling by saying it is 
that property of feeling which we express by giving feel- 
ings different names. We do not mistake a feeling of fear 
for a feeling of pity, and a feeling of anger is specifically 
different from a feeling of love. While the long list of feel- 
ings that are described in books on psychology is of little 
value, and chiefly serviceable in a rhetorical way, no one 
will deny that feelings do differ specifically and that there 
may be many different kinds. No real explanation of the 
specific difference in feelings is given by any theory except 
the James theory, which asserts that the particular kind 
of feeling that is experienced depends upon the muscle 
which contracts to produce the movement called the ex- 
pression, and whose contraction gives rise to the feeling. 
No theory of feeling can be considered satisfactory that 
does not explain why feelings differ in specific character. 

It is impossible for us to understand the difference be- 
tween feelings unless we recognize that no feeling is ever 
experienced except in conjunction with some intellectual 
process. That intellectual process is always a perception, 
either of some object or of a relation. Usually the feelings 

81 



82 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

are treated as if they were independent experiences, having 
only a remote relation to the intellectual processes. It is 
this failure of the new psychology in treating the feelings 
by its physiological and experimental methods to conceive 
the true relation between the feeling and the intellectual 
processes, that has rendered at all tolerable the theory that 
all kinds of pain are intellectual sensations. Such a de- 
termination of pain seems to be the first step in an attempt 
to reduce all feeling processes to an intellectual basis. It 
is in this field that we are most in need of some satisfactory 
theory of feeling. Much energy has already been unprofit- 
able expended in consequence of the lack of such a theory, 
and the more promptly it is supplied, the better. 

Feelings are not causally related to intellectual proc- 
esses, but are most intimately associated with them. The 
nature of the relation can best be conceived in physio- 
logical terms. No one will question the statement that 
whenever an intellectual process is experienced, a nervous 
impulse passes through some combination of cells in the 
brain. The process of transmission constitutes the psysio- 
logical concomitant of the intellectual process, and the 
greater the amount of nervous energy that goes through 
the brain center, the greater will be the intellectual work 
accomplished. When an intellectual process of one kind 
is experienced, one combination of brain cells is traversed : 
and whenever a different intellectual process is experi- 
enced, a nervous impulse passes through a different com- 
bination of brain cells. If an object is seen, some combi- 
nation of cells in the occipital lobe is traversed, while if a 
sound is heard, a nervous impulse passes through some 
combination of cells in the temporal lobe. The particular 
kind of intellectual process that is experienced depends 
upon, or is determined by, the particular combination of 
cells through which the impulse is transmitted. We are 
not able to state the reason for the association of sight 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 83 

and hearing functions with particular brain centers, but 
these facts will be admitted by nearly all psychologists. 

We have seen that under proper conditions, resistance 
is experienced in a brain center whenever an impulse of 
sufficient strength is transmitted through it. Whenever 
an impulse passes through some combination of cells and 
accompanies the perception of a raging lion, or an en- 
raged bull, or some other dangerous animal, if the 
perception is clear, the nervous impulse strong, and the 
resistance great enough, we experience the feeling of 
fear. If the impulse passes through some combination of 
cells accompanying the perception of a starving mother 
with her family of little children, if the impulse is strong, 
the perception clear, and the resistance great enough, we 
experience the feeling of pity. The difference in the things 
that are seen accounts for the difference in the feelings 
experienced. Eesistance encountered in one combination 
of brain cells accompanies one kind of feeling, while re- 
sistance encountered in another combination accompanies 
a different kind. Hence we may say that the specific dif- 
ference in feelings depends upon the brain center in which 
the resistance is encountered. 

It ought to be clearly understood what we mean by a 
brain center when we assert that the particular feeling 
depends upon the brain center in which the resistance is 
encountered. The doctrine of localization of function 
teaches that particular localities in the brain are devoted 
to the transmission of impulses that accompany particular 
mental processes. Thus all the cells that are traversed 
by impulses when we experience a sight sensation, lie in 
the occipital lobe. The hearing center, the taste center, 
the smell center, and a few others have been quite definitely 
determined, and we may rely rather confidently upon the 
accuracy of the determination. When the word center is 
used in this connection, it is understood to mean some 



84 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

rather definitely circumscribed locality in the brain sepa- 
rated by more or less clearly distinguished boundaries. 

Only the simplest mental processes can accompany im- 
pulses that traverse cells situated in such definitely cir- 
cumscribed localities. Almost any kind of a perception 
will involve several or many sensations, each sensation de- 
manding the transmission of a nervous impulse through 
one such clearly circumscribed center, and the entire num- 
ber of circumscribed localities must be traversed by the 
same impulse. Hence it is that the center, or combina- 
tion of cells that is traversed by an impulse when we per- 
ceive an apple or a landscape, or read a book, or go 
through a reasoning process, will consist of cells in various 
parts of the brain, separated, no doubt, in many cases, by 
its full length and width. It is this entire combination, 
which is not defined by geographical boundaries, but de- 
limited only by the nervous impulse itself, that we must 
consider the brain center. Although the cells that com- 
pose it may be widely scattered, the one impulse that tra- 
verses the entire combination sufficiently defines it, and 
permits us to speak of it as one brain center. 

It must be understood, also, that the same cell or many 
cells may enter as constituent parts in several or many 
brain centers at different times. At one time, one cell 
may constitute a portion of one brain center, and at an- 
other it may be traversed by an impulse originating in a 
different place, entering the cell from a different direction 
and combining by means of the impulse with a totally dif- 
ferent group of cells to constitute another brain center. 
It is some such conception as this that we must entertain 
when we use the word brain center in this connection. 
With this understanding of the use of the word, we may 
readily accept the statement that the specific difference 
among feelings depends upon the brain centers in which 
the resistance is encountered. 

We shall avoid, also, the implication that might other- 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 85 

wise be obtained from the above statement, that there is a 
brain center for fear and another for pity, one for hate 
and another for anger. Still more inaccurate are the 
figures given in some of our text books on physiology that 
indicate a center for feeling just behind the motor area. 
No such definite location of feeling can be made. Feeling 
is not localized in any one place, but wherever a nervous 
impulse traverses a brain center and encounters resistance, 
there we have the place in which exists the concomitant 
of feeling. There is not one center for fear and another 
for veneration and another for love. To assume some- 
thing of this kind would be to repeat, without any justifi- 
cation for it, the errors of the phrenologists. There are 
just as many brain centers, or combinations of brain 
cells in which resistance will accompany the feeling of 
fear as there are things of which we may be afraid. There 
may be a thousand or ten thousand different combinations, 
resistance in any one of which will be the concomitant of 
the feeling of fear. There are just as many centers whose 
resistance will accompany the feeling of shame as there 
are things of which we may be ashamed. It is some con- 
ception such as this that Hoffding has in mind when he 
employs the expression that "The specific differences be- 
tween feelings we must try to explain by means of the 
different cognitive elements that may be combined with 
them." {Psychology, p. 222). 

This leads us to another observation. As numerous as 
are the different kinds of feelings, (Titchener suggests a 
list of more than a hundred) the number of intellectual 
processes must be indefinitely greater. This must be true, 
not only because of the fact that different intellectual 
processes are accompanied by the transmission of impulses 
through brain centers whose resistance accompanies the 
same kind of feeling, but because unless the resistance 
reaches a certain minimum which is difficult of determina- 
tion, no feeling is experienced, while the intellectual proc- 



86 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

esses may be very clear. Many intellectual processes are 
accompanied by no feeling. 

While there are different kinds of feelings, they are not 
very sharply discriminated, and lists that are made have 
little value. Under one name will be grouped many kinds 
of feelings, some quite sharply distinguished from others. 
Mr. Spencer has shown how exceedingly complex is the 
feeling of love, or, at least, the cognitive elements that 
accompany it (Psychology, I, 487.) Mr. Spencer describes 
merely conjugal love, or the kind of love that a young man 
bears for a prospective wife, and the word love is applied 
to many other kinds of feelings. We can readily under- 
stand that any variation in the number of cells and cen- 
ters that are traversed by the impulse will correspond to 
a variation in the specific character of feeling. So while 
there are broad, general distinctions between feelings, it 
is comparatively useless to undertake to discriminate the 
different kinds with nicety and sharpness. Much energy 
may be unprofitably expended in drawing distinctions 
between such feelings as grief, care, melancholy, wretched- 
ness, anxiety, dejection, gloom, depression. These names 
for feelings are taken from one of our most popular ele- 
mentary treatises upon the subject. 

It will be understood that one feeling will be specifically 
related to another in exactly the proportion that the num- 
ber of cells in the center that offers resistance are identi- 
cal with those in the combination whose resistance accom- 
panies the second feeling. Hence we shall have all kinds 
of variations and all degrees of relationship among the 
feelings. A feeling of one kind may change to a feeling 
of another kind, even when we contemplate the same ob- 
ject. And this is not because of any difference in "atti- 
tude," whatever that may mean, but because of the change 
in the cells through which the nervous impulse is passing. 
A person who has never seen nor heard of a rattlesnake, 
and sees one for the first time, is not in the least afraid 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 87 

of it. The cells through which the nervous impulse is pass- 
ing are not those that have been associated with the feel- 
ing of fear. But a person who knows what a rattlesnake 
can do, when he perceives a rattlesnake, sees also his pos- 
sible death, the suffering that may accompany the bite, 
the act of striking which the rattle precedes — all of these 
different combinations are traversed by the same impulse, 
and the resistance encountered in this entire combination 
accompanies a feeling of a very different kind from that 
which accompanies the resistance in the combination 
which gives merely a visual image of the snake. 

Great intensity of fear may be experienced by one who 
knows all the details about a rattlesnake bite. But if the 
person becomes familiar with rattlesnakes, has killed many 
of them and escaped many more, if rattlesnakes come to 
constitute an ever present element in the perceivable sur- 
roundings of the person, the feeling undergoes another 
change, and very little fear may be experienced. Yet in 
all three of these cases, the supposition is that the same 
object is perceived, while really, very different combina- 
tions of cells are traversed by the impulse. 
2» Feelings differ from each other in still another respect. 
Not only is there a specific difference in feelings, but there 
is a difference in intensity. We may define intensity by 
saying that it is that property of feeling which we describe 
by saying that feelings are strong or weak. There are 
strong feelings and weak feelings. We may have a weak 
feeling of anger or a strong feeling of anger. We may pity 
a person much or little. But the feelings are not neces- 
sarily of the same specific character in order to be de- 
scribed as strong or weak. We may have a strong feeling 
of love and a weak feeling of contempt. Strong and weak 
are always relative terms, and we may designate by them 
indefinite degrees of intensity which every one will recog- 
nize as having been experienced. 
How shall we account for this difference in intensity? 



88 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

We can readily understand that if resistance encountered 
in the brain center is the inevitable concomitant of feel- 
ing, the greater the resistance is, the more intense will be 
the feeling; and the less the resistance, the weaker it will 
be. We have in the fact of resistance an explanation of 
the various and varying intensity of feeling. 

Whatever modifies resistance will by the same process 
modify feeling. We have in this fact an explanation of 
the decrease of feeling in an habitual experience. No fact 
is better demonstrated in physiology than that habit tends 
to diminish resistance, and this fact is generally recog- 
nized under the name of the law of neural habit. We have 
already seen in Chapter II that habit, or practice, dimin- 
ishes reaction time, and that the limit toward which prac- 
tice tends to diminish it, is that of a reflex act. But no 
feeling accompanies a reflex, so we can readily under- 
stand that habit, repetition, and practice, may so diminish 
resistance that all feeling may disappear from the act. 

We have in this explanation of intensity, an explana- 
tion also of the fact that a thing, incident, occurrence, or 
event that is observed directly, is likely to be accompanied 
by a feeling of greater intensity than is one that is merely 
read about. If we should see a man run over by a street 
car and mangled out of all resemblance to humanity, the 
feeling accompanying such a perception would be so strong 
that we could characterize it only as a feeling of horror. 
But if we merely read about it in the morning papers, 
while we may be as certainly assured of the correctness 
of the account as if we had been present and had witnessed 
it, the feeling that we experience is very much less intense. 
Now why should the feeling be less intense in one case 
than in the other? The facts are the same, our knowledge 
of them is as clear in one case as in the other, the truth 
is not called into question in either instance, but the in- 
tensity of the accompanying feeling differs widely in the 
two cases. 



THE PROPERTIES OP FEELING b\) 

For an explanation of the difference we shall have to go 
back to a previous statement, that a peripherally initiated 
impulse is always stronger than a centrally initiated one. 
It has been asserted that every impulse has its origin in 
some peripheral disturbance, but it is only by an improper 
use of the term that such a proposition can be maintained. 
The image of the street-car accident that is read about is 
initiated by the sensation accompanying the impulse 
started in the retina by the words on the page, but the 
image of the accident that is aroused by reading the words 
is the concomitant of a centrally initiated impulse. So a 
thing that is remembered is always the concomitant of a 
centrally initiated impulse, as is a thing that is merely 
imagined. 

A peripherally initiated impulse is always stronger 
than a centrally initiated one, except in the very rare cases 
of hallucination. The difference between a percept and an 
idea depends upon this difference in strength of impulse. 
The only way we have of distinguishing an idea from a per- 
cept is by the vividness of the mental process, which has its 
concomitant in the strength of the nervous impulse. 

In the case of our personal observation of the accident 
on the street- car line, we have the whole situation pre- 
sented to us by means of peripherally initiated impulses, 
which are strong, and the percept is vivid, the accompany- 
ing impulses meeting with much resistance. But in case 
of merely reading the account, the only peripherally initi- 
ated impulses are those that enable us to perceive the 
printed letters on the page, and the scene of the accident 
is pictured by means of centrally initiated impulses which 
seldom approximate the intensity, or encounter the same 
degree of resistance as do the peripherally initiated im- 
pulses. A dish of ice cream is much more satisfying to the 
taste than is one that is merely thought about, and the 
reason is similar. It is very difficult to reinstate a feeling, 
or to experience by reinstating the intellectual process, an 



90 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

intensity of feeling that even approximates that of the 
original experience. 

But let us suppose that we should see a man run over 
every day by the street car, or that almost every hour in 
the day some occurrence of this kind should occur within 
our observation. It would not be very long until we should 
look upon it as a matter of course, and rather express 
astonishment when some person less accustomed to such a 
gruesome sight might reprove us for being callous and 
hard-hearted. The degree of resistance and the intensity 
of feeling accompanying the first experience would have 
become lessened by practice, custom, and habit. Some- 
thing of this kind must be considered to occur in case of 
soldiers who have participated in many battles. Physi- 
cians undergo the same kind of experience in their deal- 
ings with examples of suffering, and the same kind of a 
change is observed in the case of persons whose duty it is 
to slaughter animals for market. 

In our discussion of the expression of feeling, but little 
reference was made to the fact that some expressions are 
much more vigorous than others. We can usually judge 
of the intensity of feeling by the intensity and vigor of the 
expression. The feeling and the expression have a direct 
relation to each other. The more intense the feeling the 
more vigorous the expression will be. This that is observed 
might be inferred logically from the facts of resistance. 
The greater the resistance the more intense the feeling 
will be. The greater the resistance, the stronger will be 
the tendency for the impulse to spread out into other cen- 
ters, especially the motor centers. The portion of the cur- 
rent that escapes from the feeling center will overflow into 
the expression centers, distributing itself into all of them 
in a ratio inversely proportional to the resistance encoun- 
tered in passing into the different centers. Thus it will 
be seen that we have an explanation of the fact that in 
cases of strong feeling, at least, there is not merely one 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 91 

expression center, but, while the larger part of the impulse 
may flow over into one expression center, many other cen- 
ters receive some portion of it and some evidence of the 
expression of the feeling may be observed in many centers. 
In fact, in cases of very strong feeling, where a great im- 
pulse is seeking to go through a center and is meeting with 
resistance, some portion of the current overflows into al- 
most every motor center and perhaps into almost every 
glandular center. Thus, in cases of strong feeling, almost 
every muscle in the body, including the visceral and deep- 
seated muscles, may manifest some trace at least of the 
presence of a very strong current. 

It will be seen from the above discussion, together with 
the explanation of what is meant by resistance, (Chapter 
IV, p. 47) that the amount of resistance and the intensity 
of feeling depend upon two factors: first, the nature of 
the nervous arc, the brain center itself in which the resist- 
ance is encountered ; second, the amount of nervous energy 
which is transmitted through the brain center. If the 
nervous arc, or the brain center, is such as to occasion 
much resistance in itself, the feeling will be strong with a 
given amount of nervous energy. This condition will pre- 
vail if the nervous arc has been traversed but a few times, 
if the cells are more or less undeveloped, or if there is a 
pathological condition such as would be symptomized by 
inflammation. As those conditions are modified, the cells 
that make up the brain center become more fully devel- 
oped, the dendrites longer, the distances between their 
terminations shorter, the cells become habituated to trans- 
mitting impulses, or the inflammatory condition decreased, 
the resistance will diminish, the feeling will become less 
and tend to disappear. 

But none of these resistent conditions will result in 
very much feeling unless there is a nervous impulse of suf- 
ficient strength. If the impulse becomes stronger, the 
brain center remaining the same, the resistance and the 



92 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

feeling will increase. If the amount of nervous energy 
generated be diminished by narcotics, disease, impure air, 
starvation, or lack of blood supply, the resulting feeling 
will be decreased as the resistance is decreased. Intensity 
of feeling depends upon these two factors that are always 
involved in making any estimate of the amount of resist- 
ance. 

Besides these factors, the intensity of feeling and the 
degree of resistance may be increased or decreased, al- 
though both the brain center and the amount of nervous 
energy remain the same, by a process of attention, whose 
mechanism is to be discussed in a later chapter. 
; t-A third characteristic of feeling is tone. By tone of 
feeling we mean its painful or pleasurable character. This 
quality is of so much importance in the life of the indi- 
vidual that many writers on psychology have regarded 
pleasure and pain as constituting the feeling itself. How- 
ever, such writers never undertake to make a classifica- 
tion of feelings upon this basis, nor to describe the specific 
differences in feelings that are expressed by the different 
names applied to the feeling processes, without taking into 
consideration other things than pleasure and pain. No 
one fails to recognize that different feelings have different 
intensities, although the intensity might be described as 
an intensity of pleasure or pain. Altogether, the state- 
ment of Ribot is justified when he says that "It is therefore 
an error, although common to many psychologists, to con- 
sider pleasure and pain as fundamental elements of the 
affective life. They are only marks. The foundation is 
elsewhere. What would be said of a doctor who confused 
the symptoms of a disease with its essential nature." 
{Psychology of the Emotions, p. 32.) 

Another group of writers apply the term tone to sensa- 
tion, and speak of pleasure and pain as the tone of the 
sensation instead of the tone of the feeling. In many 
cases sensation as an intellectual process is not discrimi- 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 93 

nated from feeling, but in other cases it is, and pain and 
pleasure are considered as the characteristic of the intel- 
lectual process. One may very readily be pardoned for 
confusing pain and pleasure with the intellectual process 
in the absence of any satisfactory theory of the relation 
between feeling and the intellectual process that accom- 
panies it, but it is necessary to discriminate the two, and 
there is no justification in the present state of psycho- 
logical knowledge for failing to make the distinction. It 
appears that the clearest way in which to describe the rela- 
tion is to figure it in terms of a physiological process. The 
difficulty of establishing such an understandable hypothe- 
sis is sufficient explanation for much of the obscure and 
indefinite thinking upon this subject. If we consider the 
impulse that passes through the brain center as the con- 
comitant of sensation, and the resistance that stops out 
part of the nervous energy as the concomitant of feeling, 
we shall have a means of clearly discriminating the two, 
and seeing the relations that they hold to each other. We 
shall then see that pain and pleasure are properties, not 
of the intellectual sensation, depending upon the amount 
of nervous energy that goes through the brain center, but 
of the feeling, which depends upon the degree of resistance, 
and varying with the amount of nervous energy that is 
stopped out and destroyed in the transmission. 

It is scarcely advisable to make the distinction between 
pain and unpleasantness as some writers do. It is the 
same kind of distinction as that which is drawn between 
physical feeling and mental feeling, between sensation and 
reasoning, between affection and emotion. Physical pain 
may differ from mental pain, but this is merely a specific 
difference depending upon the difference in brain centers 
in which the resistance is encountered. Also, physical 
pain is usually more intense than is mental pain, since in 
the activity of a sense organ, which is always employed as 
an illustration of physical pain, the peripherally initiated 



94 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

nervous impulse is stronger, while in the impulse that 
accompanies mental pain, there is a much larger pro- 
portion of the centrally initiated energy. As a usual 
thing, the physical pain, that is so available for illustra- 
tion, is more intense and less massive. These two qualities 
have their correlates in the fact that the nervous impulse 
in case of physical pain is peripherally initiated, and that 
the brain center through which it passes is likely to be 
composed of a smaller number of cells. However, the tone 
is the same, no matter how great the specific difference in 
the feelings may be. 

Pain and pleasure are not specifically different from 
each other but differ rather quantitatively than qualita- 
tively. Pleasure may pass into pain, and pain into pleas- 
ure, or, perhaps for the sake of accuracy, we ought to say 
that a feeling of a painful tone may pass into a feeling of 
the same specific character having a pleasurable tone. The 
tone of the feeling may change without there being any 
change in the specific character. We may experience a 
feeling of a painful tone when our hands are cold. When 
we come near a hot stove, the feeling of warmth has a 
pleasurable tone. As our hands become warmer, the feel- 
ing may change to one of a painful tone. It is the same 
feeling, accompanying the sensation of warmth, and we 
may call the feeling by the same name, warmth, if we do 
not confuse the feeling with the sensation, in consequence 
of applying the same name to both. The odor of flowers is 
pleasant, but if the perfume is intensified, the accompany- 
ing feeling will, with nearly any odor, become painful. 

Here we have an example of a general law of feeling tone. 
Nearly any feeling of a moderate degree of intensity has a 
plasurable tone, but the same feeling with a greater degree 
of intensity will have a painful tone. In general, the tone 
of the feeling depends upon its intensity. This is a matter 
of direct observation, and corroborates our theory of the 



THE PROPERTIES OP PEELING VD 

resistance being the concomitant of feeling. A few pos- 
sible exceptions to the general law will be noticed later. 

Up to a certain point, the greater the intensity, the more 
pleasant the tone; and beyond that point an increase in 
intensity increases the pain. We can understand that by 
varying the intensity we may canse a feeling having a 
pleasant tone to change to one having a painful tone, and 
conversely by varying the resistance and the intensity in 
the opposite direction, we may cause a feeling having a 
painful tone to change to one having a pleasant tone. 
Nearly all persons like sweet things, but food may become 
so sweet as to be sickening. The Heaven of eternal rest 
appeals only to persons who labor hard every day. 

A feeling having a painful tone may change to one hav- 
ing a pleasant tone by varying the resistance, either 
through habit, attention, or diminution of the amount of 
nervous energy so as to produce less resistance and less 
intensity of feeling. Washing dishes is with many girls a 
very disagreeable occupation, as is the weeding of the 
onion bed to a small boy. But by continued repetition, 
the feeling becomes diminished in consequence of the di- 
minished resistance incident to an habitual act, and the 
feeling takes on a pleasant tone. Almost any occupation 
that is pursued conscientiously ceases to be painful, be- 
comes endurable, and finally pleasant. It is not often that 
an occupation that is pleasant in the beginning, remains 
pleasant continuously. It becomes, not painful perhaps, 
but rather monotonous and ceases to furnish pleasure. 

There is one phenomenon of feeling that has led many 
persons to question the validity of this origin of the pain- 
ful tone of feeling. It is true that the same intensity of 
feeling may under one kind of circumstances be pleasur- 
able and in another painful. The best illustrations occur 
in cases of physical pain. When a person has a toothache, 
a certain degree of intensity is exceedingly painful if the 
intensity of the ache is increasing, while exactly the same 



96 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

intensity will appear pleasurable if it is decreasing. The 
same thing is true if we place our hand in water of a cer- 
tain degree of temperature. If the hand is placed into the 
hot water from a temperature that is less, the accompany- 
ing feeling is painful, while if it is placed in it from a tem- 
perature that is greater, the accompanying feeling is pleas- 
urable. Let us suppose that the feeling, whatever it may 
be, has increased from an intensity of three to an intensity 
of four. The increasing intensity is recognized as painful. 
But if the feeling is decreasing from an intensity of five to 
an intensity of four, the intensity of four is regarded as 
pleasurable. It will be understood that we have assumed 
the intensity of four as the neutral point, or the point of 
indifference, or near it. 

This is a matter that has led to the statement of theories 
of feeling that do not regard intensity as the necessary con- 
dition of pleasure and pain. It is upon this series of phe- 
nomena that Meyer's theory (See p. 26) is based, and it 
explains them well. Let us see how the matter may be 
explained by means of the resistance. 

We know that a brain center is modified by the impulses 
that pass through it. It is modified by many repetitions 
in such a way that a nervous impulse of the same strength 
will go through it with less resistance, but it is modified 
much more promptly by a larger impulse than by a smaller 
one. If a very strong nervous impulse is passing through 
the center, it modifies that center very promptly so that a 
nervous impulse of a less degree of intensity will pass 
through it with little resistance. The resistance will vary, 
probably with some function of the strength of the cur- 
rent ; such as the square, or some higher power. So after 
a strong nervous impulse has passed through, the resist- 
ance in the center is much diminished. But if the impulse 
passing through has been a weak one, the stronger impulse 
will encounter resistance greater according to some func- 
tion of the impulse preceding. If the point of intensity 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 97 

is near the critical point, the difference may be such that 
the resistance is great enough, with the same strength of 
current in one case, to accompany a pleasurable feeling, 
and in another to accompany a painful feeling. 

In this discussion of the change from a pleasurable to 
a painful tone, it has been assumed that in passing from 
one to the other a point is reached at which the tone can 
be described as neither pleasurable nor painful. The feel- 
ing having the most pleasant tone is the one having the 
greatest intensity just before the point of pain is reached ; 
or, avoiding circumlocution and sacrificing accuracy of 
expression for the sake of clearness, we may say that the 
more intense a feeling may be without its becoming pain- 
ful, the pleasanter it is. 

The point at which pain changes into pleasure, or pleas- 
ure into pain, is called the point of indifference. This 
must be carefully distinguished from the point of monot- 
ony, at which all feeling, and consequently all tone, dis- 
appears. The failure to make this discrimination has led 
many writers on psychology to deny that there is a point 
of indifference. The point of indifference is a condition 
in which there is much resistance encountered, and ac- 
companied by a feeling of considerable intensity. The 
point of monotony is one in which there is little or no re- 
sistance, no feeling, consequently neither pain nor pleas- 
ure is experienced. The two things are not identical nor 
very closely allied, but much confusion has been caused by 
failing to notice their difference. 

We may say in general that actions which accompany 
feelings having a painful tone are injurious, and those 
that accompany feelings having a pleasurable tone are 
beneficial ; or, painful feelings are injurious and pleasur- 
able feelings are beneficial; or more briefly and still less 
accurately, we may say that pain is injurious and pleasure 
is beneficial. 

It will be readily understood that whenever pain arises 



98 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

from a degree of resistance that accompanies a feeling of 
excessive intensity, some injury is likely to result. It is 
pleasant to see the sunlight, but to look directly at the sun 
engenders a feeling of such intensity as to be painful and 
is injurious to the eyesight. The feeling of fatigue is a 
painful feeling and the actions that give rise to it are so 
excessive as to be injurious if persisted in. It seems, 
then, that pain arises whenever the activity of any organ 
is of such a nature that its continuation will prove in- 
jurious to the organ exercised. 

This may be stated physiologically by saying that an 
activity is accompanied by a feeling having a painful tone 
whenever the destruction of tissue in the organ, nervous, 
muscular, or glandular, goes on more rapidly than it can 
be restored. When the destruction of tissue is not greater 
than can be restored as rapidly as it is used up, pain will 
not ensue. Whenever a nervous impulse encounters great 
resistance, we have a condition in which there is a rapid 
destruction of tissue in nerve and brain. We cannot have 
great resistance without the liberation of much nervous 
energy, and this implies rapid oxidation of tissue. 

The illustrations employed have all been of the kind 
that is called physical pain, but the same thing is true of 
other kinds of pain as well. When the action is of such a 
kind as to be destructive to the social organism, then the 
pain is likely to be a mental pain, and follows the same 
law. An action that is injurious to the social whole is 
likely to be a painful action. An action that is injurious 
to racial propagation is likely to be painful, not perhaps 
physically but mentally. In this case, the social structure 
may be read in place of the physical organism, and the 
same law will apply. 

The statement that pain is injurious is only partly true, 
and in order not to be misleading must be properly under- 
stood. We mean that in general those actions that are 
accompanied by feelings having a painful tone are in- 



THE PROPERTIES OF FEELING 99 

jurious, while those actions that are accompanied by feel- 
ings having a pleasurable tone are beneficial Now it 
seems as if we had a statement of a very satisfactory 
theory of life. In order to do the things that are bene- 
ficial, we need only to do those things that are pleasant 
and avoid those that are unpleasant. We are thus landed 
into the philosophical system of the Epicureans. But 
there are so many instances of a contrary nature that we 
are inclined to question the philosophical soundness of 
the doctrine. If I should never do anything unpleasant, 
why am I advised to take quinine, or castor oil, or some- 
thing else that is equally distasteful? Why is it that 
medicine which I am told is good for me to take nearly 
always tastes bad ? Why am I told that the things that I 
like to eat best are nearly always the things that are most 
likely to be injurious to my health? Why am I advised 
to get up early in the morning and to take exercise when 
I should so much rather not ? Why am I advised to study 
in school the things that I like least or, perhaps, why 
should I find it necessary to go to school at all when I 
would so much rather play? 

The answer is rather easy. If we were perfectly ad- 
justed to the environment in which we live, then the rule 
would hold good in every instance. Those things that are 
accompanied by pleasant feelings would always be bene- 
ficial, and those that are injurious would always be ac- 
companied by unpleasant feelings. But we are never per- 
fectly adjusted to our environment and never can be com- 
pletely so. Our environment changes, seasons change, 
children grow, improvements are made in methods of 
work, habits of living, and social ideals. Our ancestors 
lived in a different climate and in different surroudings 
from what we do, and our whole hereditary fabric must 
be readjusted to the changed conditions. Our environ- 
ment changes and our perfect adjustment is destroyed. 
It is in the process of readjustment that the beneficial 



100 THE PEELINGS OP MAN 

action is accompanied by an unpleasant feeling. If we had 
been accustomed to take a dose of quinine every day for 
generations, and those persons who did take the quinine 
were the only persons who lived and left descendants, 
while those who failed to take quinine died without leav- 
ing descendants, the taste of quinine would without doubt 
ultimately become as pleasant as is now the taste of sugar. 
So any process that is unpleasant but beneficial would 
ultimately become pleasant if the same condition pre- 
vailed, and the environment to which the activity consti- 
tuted an adjustment remained the same. 

Not only is pain in itself not injurious, but both pain 
and pleasure are alike beneficial. Pain is beneficial be- 
cause in consequence of it we are induced to cease doing 
the things that are injurious. Pleasure is beneficial be- 
cause by means of it we are induced to do the things that 
are advantageous to ourselves as individuals, to the com- 
munity, or to the race. The painful tone of the feeling of 
hunger leads us to eat, and the pleasurable tone of the 
feeling accompanying the process of eating contributes to 
the same result. Both the pain of hunger and the pleasure 
of eating conspire to induce us to eat, and when we realize 
that to eat is the first condition of living, we shall see that 
the process is not too well guarded even by both pleasure 
and pain. In animals born like Mr. Hodge's puppies — 
having the fibers in the brain non-medullated, no eating 
instinct developed at birth and no nervous organization 
that led to it — death is of course inevitable. They were 
described by Mr. Hodge as non-viable. 

Pain is a symptom of disease. It is a warning. As Dr. 
Woods Hutchinson calls it, it is the great danger signal of 
nature. The business of treatment is to cure the disease, 
not merely to mitigate the pain. If the pain is not relieved 
by the cure of the disease, but is mitigated by the use of 
narcotic drugs, or even by faith cure, or Christian Science, 
the relief of the pain is an evil rather than a good. 



THE PROPERTIES OP FEELING 101 

Some diseases, like consumption, leprosy, and syphilis, 
are exceedingly dangerous, merely because in their early 
stages they are accompanied by no pain. More persons 
die of consumption every year in the United States than 
of any other disease, and yet, in its early stages, it is one 
of the most easily curable of diseases. If it were accom- 
panied in its early stages by as much pain as a sore finger, 
no one would in all probability die of consumption. 

Pain and pleasure have been described as different de- 
grees of intensity in the same feeling. Any feeling may 
have a painful tone or a pleasurable tone, depending upon 
the intensity of the feeling and its correlative resistance 
in the brain center. While this is in general true, it is 
possible that a modification of it is needed in case of some 
of the most important activities. It is possible that some 
actions and some conditions are always painful, no matter 
how little the intensity may be. It is doubtful if the feel- 
ing of hunger is ever pleasant. Possibly the feeling of 
fear, which is a feeling of great importance in the preserva- 
tion of the individual, is never pleasant. Some feelings 
may be as consistently pleasant, if they are of equal im- 
portance in the preservation of the individual or the race. 
It has been observed that the sexual feeling is never pain- 
ful, and no other feeling is of so great importance in the 
perpetuation of the species and the race. It seems as if the 
activities of such tremendous importance cannot be trusted 
to the judgment of the individuals; or rather, that those 
individuals and those races in which these important feel- 
ings always had these particular tones were the races and 
the individuals best adapted to leave the largest number 
of descendants, and whose descendants had the better 
chance of surviving. It has seemed as if the feelings of 
this kind must be provided for furnishing motives of the 
utmost intensity. Such examples, however, furnish no 
grounds for postulating a separate apparatus for pleasure 
and pain. They are brought directly under the laws of 



102 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

feeling, and explained by the resistance that is encoun- 
tered in the brain centers traversed by the appropriate 
impulses. 

Pain and pleasure, then, the tone of feeling, is that 
characteristic of feeling that induces the individual to per- 
form actions which tend to preserve his life, or the lives 
of the community, or the life of the race. Physical pain 
leads him to perform actions that tend to preserve his own 
individual life. Mental pain is strictly homologous to 
physical pain in that it leads him to perform actions that 
tend to preserve the community. There is no essential 
difference. It is of equal importance to preserve the com- 
munity as it is to preserve the individual. 

We are so much accustomed to think of pleasure and 
pain as incentives to our actions that we can scarcely con- 
ceive that other creatures may not be actuated by the 
same devices. But to assume that pleasure and pain are 
universal in the animal kingdom, and still more in the 
plant world, would not be justified by anything that we 
know. We are well aware of the fact that pleasure is a 
device by which the propagation of the race and the con- 
tinuity of the species is secured in the higher order of ani- 
mals, but how shall we account for the sexual propagation 
of fishes in which the co-operation of male and female is 
necessary, but in which there is no contact of the two in 
the process? We are inclined to attribute the squirming 
of the earthworm when it is cut in two, to the fact that it 
feels pain. But there is really no more reason for consid- 
ering the squirming a manifestation of pain than of pleas- 
ure. It might be an expression corresponding to our vio- 
lent exertion of laughter, so far as we can discover, and 
Mr. Loeb believes that the earthworm feels no pain when 
it is cut or pressed. A beheaded hen is moved to violent 
action, but we can scarcely see how a hen with her head 
cut off can experience pain, or even pleasure. The action 
of a sensitive plant is not different from that of many 



THE PROPERTIES OP FEELING 103 

animals whose actions we call expressions of pain, yet no 
one believes that the sensitive plant experiences pain. Al- 
though insects are rather highly organized creatures, it is 
doubtful if they are protected in the same way by the de- 
vice of pain. At least, it would be exceedingly difficult to 
demonstrate that they are. 

Synopsis. 

1 — There are three properties of feeling, specific charac- 
ter, intensity, and tone. 

2 — Specific character is that property which is ex- 
pressed by the employment of different names for feelings. 
It depends upon the particular combination of brain cells 
in which the resistance is encountered. 

3 — Intensity is that property of feeling which is ex- 
pressed by the words strong or weak. It depends upon the 
amount of resistance, and consequently the intensity is 
modified by the condition of the brain center, by the 
strength of the current, and by attention. 

4 — Tone is that property of feeling which is expressed 
by the tvords pain and pleasure. It primarily depends 
upon the degree of intensity, but in a few of the most essen- 
tial feelings variation in intensity does not cause a change 
in tone. 

5 — In general, a feeling has a painful tone when the re- 
sistance accompanies a degree of activity that destroys 
tissue more rapidly than it can be restored; pleasure is 
experienced when the degree of activity permits the restor- 
ation of tissue as rapidly as it is destroyed. 



Chapter VII 
THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS. 

There can be only two purposes in the classification of 
a series of objects or processes: one is that of enabling 
us to remember the series more readily. When such is the 
purpose, the basis of classification is likely to be some 
purely accidental circumstance, and the resulting classifi- 
cation would not be considered as possessing a high order 
of merit. The second purpose in classification is to show 
forth some relation that would not otherwise be dis- 
covered. Such a classification would necessarily have for 
its basis some important characteristic, and the classifi- 
cation would exhibit the natural relation between the 
objects classified, manifesting their nature more fully 
than would be possible without it. 

In the classification adopted in botany and zoology, 
which are the classificatory sciences par excellence, the 
classification called the natural system is intended to 
show the relation by descent of the animals and plants 
classified. It exhibits the genetic relationships which they 
bear to each other. This kind of classification is of so 
much more importance than any other, and exhibits re- 
lations of so much greater value, that it has completely 
superseded all others, and is used as the basis for assign- 
ing names to the different species. 

As there is but one important natural classification for 
animals and plants, so there is but one natural classifica- 
tion of the feelings that shows forth such essential rela- 
tions as to make it worth while to present. This natural 
classification is one that manifests the relations among 

105 



106 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

feelings according to the function that they perform in the 
life of the individual and the race, and the manner in 
which they have originated. 

One difficulty in classification of feelings is that up to 
the present there are very few specific determinations of 
feelings, and no settled method of procedure in determin- 
ing them or discriminating one from another. A list of 
all the feelings that are mentioned by each of four or five 
different writers on feelings will show no agreement at all, 
even in names, beyond a very few feelings. A counting 
of the different feelings mentioned in the books of four 
writers, all of whom have written fully upon the subject, 
shows that the number varies from seventeen to a hundred 
and eighteen. While no one writer probably intended to 
make a full list of feelings, nevertheless, if they had so 
intended, it is probable that the lists would have varied as 
widely. A casual examination of the several lists shows, 
also, no general agreement among the feelings that are 
named, and certainly there are many synonyms in the 
longer lists ; and without doubt, several kinds of feelings 
are included under one name in each list. It would seem 
that some method of making specific definitions of feelings 
and delimiting one from another is urgently needed. 

In all classificatory sciences, it has been found of very 
great assistance to adopt some general scheme of classi- 
fication first, and then the different species find their 
places readily in that scheme. If we can establish some 
system of classification that will exhibit the most impor- 
tant relations, it will assist greatly in the description of 
the species. 

The natural classification of the feelings is one that 
shows the function of the feelings in the development of 
the individual and the race, and indicates as a logical 
necessity the manner in which each feeling has become 
established as a human characteristic. To Herbert 
Spencer the recognition of this characteristic of feeling 



THE CLASSIFICATION OP FEELINGS 107 

as a basis of classification is largely due, and the method 
of classifying adopted here is derived from him, with, how- 
ever, some important modifications that the sixty years 
which have elapsed since Herbert Spencer wrote have 
shown to be necessary. 

One general principle must be recognized in the study 
of the feelings. Every feeling has now, or has had in the 
recent past, some advantageous function to perform in the 
life of the race or the life of the individual. In conse- 
quence of the benefit that it has been in some way, the 
feeling has become what it is. If any feeling that is now 
experienced should prove to be injurious to the individual, 
or to the race through the individual, that feeling would 
disappear ultimately as a human characteristic in conse- 
quence of the elimination of the individuals in whom such 
feelings manifested themselves in an injurious manner. 
So a feeling that has proved itself to be advantageous to 
the individual, or to the race through the individual, has 
become fixed as a human characteristic by means of the 
advantage the individuals who experienced the feeling had 
over those individuals who did not possess it. In this 
way, the feelings have all of them originated by variation, 
become fixed by natural selection, and been transmitted 
by heredity. It will be understood that when we speak of 
feeling being transmitted by heredity, we mean that a 
nervous organization involving the capacity for resistance 
in particular brain centers has been inherited. It is the 
nervous system with all its characteristics and tendencies 
that is inherited. 

This is the ordinary law of natural selection, and while 
its operation is difficult to trace in mental processes, its 
efficiency has been manifested in so many directions that 
there is no hesitation in making this application of it, 
especially in the domain of the feelings. 

In the development of any species of animals or plants, 
some means must be employed to secure the preservation 



108 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

of the individual and the propagation of the species. 
These are the two fundamental processes, and since in the 
human race the feelings largely determine the actions that 
secure these two results, it is possible to reduce all feelings 
to two great classes, one class being those feelings that 
lead to the preservation of the individual, and the other, 
the group of feelings that lead to the propagation of the 
species. These two groups of feelings are basic, and it is 
impossible to conceive how without them the race could 
have survived, or have come to constitute a factor in the 
living world. No system of philosophy can ever hope to 
prove satisfactory as an explanation of human events that 
does not see all human actions springing out of these two 
great functions. Hence we may expect the primary classi- 
fication of feelings to be into the two groups, the self 
preserving and the race perpetuating. 

But early in the history of the race, another principle 
came into operation. This is expressed in the gregarious 
principle by which human beings came to live in herds, or 
in society. The social organization has had such a tre- 
mendous influence in increasing the power of the indi- 
vidual, leading to the greater efficiency of the self preserv- 
ing activities and multiplying the number of individuals 
that constitute the species, that in periods of the past 
comparatively recent, the function of social organization 
has become of almost equal importance with that of the 
self preserving function. Hence it is that while the feel- 
ings that lead to actions which maintain the social 
function have been derived from those of the self preserv- 
ing group, we must set them off by themselves as an inde- 
pendent group, yet showing traces of their self preserving 
origin. 

Not only human beings have adopted the community 
habit of living, but we find it originating independently in 
many species of animals. It is better exemplified in ants, 
bees, and social wasps than it is in man. Whether it is 



THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS 109 

there a manifestation of the same kind of feelings that 
have induced it in the human race or not, may be ques- 
tioned. Whether bees and ants are creatures of feeling, 
and their actions determined by it, we are unable to say. 
It is possible that the social organization, resembling in 
external features the social organization of man, may 
have been induced by the operation of some other prin- 
ciple than that of the social feelings. But in mammals 
we have many examples of social organization, and here 
we are better prepared to assert a similarity between the 
feelings of mammals and the feelings of man. 

Since there are three important activities in the life 
of the race, we shall recognize that there are three great 
groups of feelings, each corresponding to one of these 
functions. The three groups are the self-preserving feel- 
ings, which are called by Mr. Spencer the egoistic; the 
community preserving feelings, corresponding somewhat 
closely to Mr. Spencer's altruistic ; and the race perpetu- 
ating feelings, which include without having the same 
limitations, Mr. Spencer's group of the ego-altruistic. 

The self preserving feelings, having once been named, 
need no definition nor description. They constitute a 
large group of feelings that accompany the actions which 
lead to the preservation of the individual. Examples of 
this group may be found in abundance. All of the feelings 
that accompany the physical functions, except the sexual 
feelings, belong to this type. The feeling of hunger leads 
to the preservation of the individual by inducing actions 
that procure food. The pleasure derived from eating is 
of the same kind. Thirst, nausea, fatigue belong to this 
group. The advantage of fatigue is very evident. Ex- 
cessive activity of the muscle leads to the destruction of 
tissue more rapidly than it can be replaced, and danger 
of permanent injury is immanent. But the feeling of 
fatigue accompanying the increased resistance in the 
muscular center, necessitates a cessation of activity. 



110 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

The nervous mechanism by which this result is brought 
about is not difficult to understand, if we remember that 
nervous energy is necessary to make a muscle contract. 
Fatigue may be either muscle fatigue or nerve fatigue. 
The excessive oxidation of tissue may be in either organ, 
but it is detrimental in either place. The toxic products 
of fatigue are distributed over all the body by the blood 
faster than they can be eliminated, hence the feeling of 
fatigue is a general one, and every organ in the body 
seems fatigued. As a result of this feeling, the excessive 
activity is likely to be discontinued before injury is done. 
If it were not for the painful tone of fatigue, in very 
many cases injury would result, the individual would be 
seriously injured, and a smaller number of persons would 
survive to reproduce and leave descendants. 

Not all self preserving feelings are related to the phys- 
ical functions. A good example of a self preserving feel- 
ing is the feeling of fear. We have seen in a previous 
chapter that the various expressions of this feeling are 
actions, each of which in its appropriate situation tends 
to preserve the life of the individual. The shriek of the 
child, the flight of the man, the fear paralysis of either the 
child or the man, each in its own place may preserve him. 

We have seen also that the child is more nearly a crea- 
ture of feeling than is an adult individual. He expe- 
riences feelings of a greater intensity, and a larger part 
of his nervous energy is expended in overcoming resist- 
ance. But with a child, the activities are more nearly 
limited to the preservation of himself than are the activi- 
ties of older persons. Hence we find, just as we should 
expect, that the feelings of a little child are almost all 
of the self preserving kind, or selfish feelings. A little 
child is a bundle of selfishness, and there is no room in 
his heart for feelings of self abnegation. He does not 
care in the least how much trouble he may cause his 
parents. He has no shame, modesty, reverence, gratitude, 



THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS HI 

remorse, sympathy, or pity. His only business is to live, 
and he makes every circumstance subservient to that end. 
He lives, not in his sensations, but in his feelings. 

Without some understanding such as this, we shall be 
unable to interpret the actions of children. It is a failure 
to appreciate the circumstance that the feelings of chil- 
dren are of necessity altogether of the self preserving 
group that has led to the doctrine of total depravity. 
The doctrine is inevitable, if we fail to take into account 
the function of the feelings that a natural classification 
discloses. 

The plays of little children below the age of seven are 
almost all such as give rise to this group of self preserv- 
ing, or egoistic feelings, associated with the sense activ- 
ity. We may call the activity of the senses in themselves, 
sense plays. All of the plays of little children are sense 
plays, involving the feelings appropriate to the senses, 
and they are individual plays. It will be readily under- 
stood that the functional activity of the senses is in itself 
an advantage to the child, strengthening him and enabling 
him to grow, becoming all the time better able to maintain 
himself in the struggle for existence. 

The organization of brain centers goes on as the result 
of impulses originating in play. Sight, hearing, muscles 
with their brain connections, grow as they are exercised. 
Not only do they grow and the cells which constitute them 
become developed, but they become associated, and asso- 
ciation fibers develop between centers in the direction 
that the impulse runs. It is through the play activity of 
the senses, particularly the muscular sense, that the mus- 
cles become strong and capable of coordination. 

The second great group of feelings are the community 
preserving, or altruistic feelings. The name community 
preserving is much to be preferred, since it renders su- 
perflous any explanation or definition of the group. 
The community preserving feelings are those feelings which 



112 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

accompany actions that tend to benefit the community. 
While this group has been developed out of the self pre- 
serving feelings, it was split off from them very early in 
the history of the race, at the time when it adopted the 
gregarious habit of living. It is probable that the com- 
munity preserving feelings exercised little influence upon 
the actions of men before the time that is known to anthro- 
pologists as the period of middle barbarism, when first 
the community and tribal organization began to be ef- 
fective. We should not expect any great strength in the 
community preserving feelings until there was a com- 
munity to preserve, and the community would in all prob- 
ability develop coincidently with the growth of the appro- 
priate feelings. 

It is possible to show that the community preserving 
feelings have been developed out of the self preserving, 
and that they are in their origin the same. Hence it is 
not at all a matter of surprise to us that so much in- 
genuity has been expended in showing that altruism and 
egoism are at bottom one and the same thing. The per- 
son who preserves and benefits himself, at the same time 
benefits the community of which he forms a part, by fur- 
nishing it with a more efficient member. So the person 
who does something to benefit the community, at the 
same time is benefiting himself, since he constitutes a part 
of the community to whom the benefit of his action 
accrues. 

Community life has become such an important func- 
tion in human development that perhaps the larger part 
of our actions consist of those that are performed di- 
rectly for the benefit of some one else. No one of us has 
built the house in which he lives, nor made his own 
clothes, nor obtained any large proportion of his own 
food. The result of our work has been distributed over a 
hundred different persons, and we have drawn from a 
thousand to obtain the things that we need every day. 



THE CLASSIFICATION OP FEELINGS .113 

We can readily think of pity, sympathy and charity as 
example of altruistic feelings, but it is rather more diffi- 
cult to see that the man who shovels coal into another 
man's cellar is engaged in an altruistic act, or that the 
man who puts up a sign in front of his store to indicate 
where goods may be bought is equally commendable for 
his altruism. Our content for the word altruism is alto- 
gether too narrow to fit the circumstances. As habitually 
employed, it includes something of the idea of sacrifice 
and painful tone in the feeling that accompanies the altru- 
istic action. Such is not a proper meaning for the word, 
and the description of the way in which such a perverted 
meaning came to be applied to it furnishes a most in- 
teresting chapter in the history of philosophical doctrine. 

Any action that directly results in benefit to some one 
else is properly a community preserving action, and the 
feelings that appropriately accompany it are altruistic, 
or community preserving feelings. We fail to recognize 
it as such in many cases, because by habit the feeling has 
largely disappeared from most of the community preserv- 
ing actions that we do. 

To this great group of community preserving feelings 
belong all the feelings that we have been accustomed to 
call the moral feelings. Justice, truth, charity, integ- 
rity, all of them necessary for the preservation and 
strength of the community, and all the feelings that we 
call the moral virtues belong here. 

But there are other feelings belonging to this group 
whose position is less readily seen. Courage is the great 
virtue, and in fact is the mother of all the others. Cour- 
age is the feeling that leads a man to go into the army and 
fight, even though he may know that he will be killed. In 
this way it comes directly into conflict with fear, the self 
preserving feeling. Courage, not hope, is the antithesis 
of fear. The individual who goes into battle and fights, 
and is killed, benefits the community, not directly by get- 



114: THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

ting himself killed, though all of us have known persons 
whom we had reason to believe could benefit the commu- 
nity more by getting themselves killed than they could in 
any other way; but the man who goes to war, and fights 
the enemies of his country, and thereby prevents the de- 
struction of the entire community, even though he be 
killed himself, preserves the community for which he 
fights. The death of the individual, especially one who 
has courage, and the virtues that properly associate them- 
selves with it, is directly an injury to the community. 
But in case that the existence of the entire community 
is threatened, it is advantageous to set aside a portion 
of the community, even one tenth of its members, to fight 
and be killed and offered up as a sacrifice, if thereby the 
safety and continued existence of the community with 
nine-tenths of its members is assured. Hence it is that 
courage is a moral, community preserving feeling. 

It is interesting to note that in those animals in which 
the gregarious instinct is most completely developed, fear 
seems to be wanting. The social insects — bees, ants, 
wasps — seem to have none of it. Nothing is more cour- 
ageous than is a bee or an ant. The individual appears to 
be nothing, the community is everything, and every bee 
is perfectly fearless, ready and willing to attack any- 
thing without regard to consequences to himself. This 
arises from the greater intensity of the community life, 
and probably also from the very rapid rate of reproduc- 
tion, rendering unnecessary for the community existence 
the same amount of care in the preservation of the indi- 
vidual. 

Among the community preserving feelings we must 
class some that at first glance appear to be directly con- 
tradictory to the definition implied in the name commu- 
nity preserving. Here belong such feelings as anger, hate 
and revenge ; the feelings that are classified by some psy- 
chologists as the malevolent group. It appears to be al- 



THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS 115 

most a paradox to class them with the altruistic, or com- 
munity preserving feelings, because to our common 
thought it appears that they are rather community de- 
stroying feelings. But we must look for a justification 
of our grouping to the function that they had in racial 
history when they became fixed by the process of natural 
selection. In certain stages of society which we call 
savage, it is universally regarded as a moral obligation 
to take revenge for the killing of a kinsman, or fellow 
tribesman. The slayer himself, or some member of his 
family must be killed, and a relative of the murdered 
man who does not seek revenge is considered immoral, 
and regarded as unworthy of fellowship in the tribe. 
Even now in warfare, it is considered necessary to stir 
up hatred and revenge toward the members of the nation 
with which we are at war. It is necessary to "fire the 
national heart." This induces enlistment in the army, 
prevents desertion, and makes better fighters. An army 
disintegrates if its soldiers become friendly with the sol- 
diers of the enemy. 

Hatred, anger and revenge have an advantageous func- 
tion, similar to that of warning colors in animals. A 
bumblebee is not likely to be disturbed and injured if one 
knows that it is there. Its bright color shows where it is. 
So if it is known that the killing of a person or a member 
of a tribe will be inevitably followed by reprisals, that 
person or tribe is not likely to be molested. 

It is perfectly allowable to hate an enemy in warfare 
and to kill him if we can. That is what a soldier is hired 
for. He must kill, destroy human life, and the feelings 
that are appropriate to such action, and lead to such kill- 
ing, are moral, virtuous, tending to preserve the commu- 
nity. These feelings have their appropriate function 
when they are directed toward the enemies of the commu- 
nity, and when so directed they tend to preserve it. They 
receive their reprehensible character when, instead of be- 



116 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

ing directed toward the enemies of the community, they 
are directed toward members of the same community. 
Then they become immoral and a detriment to the com- 
munity itself. Since warfare has ceased to be an univer- 
sal and constant occupation, these feelings have largely 
lost their appropriate character, and persist rather as 
vestigial feelings than as feelings whose functions are 
still important. They have ceased to be regarded as 
moral, and have come to be considered immoral, which 
fact is in itself an indication of their vestigial character. 

We find anger and hate best exemplified in those mem- 
bers of the community who are least developed, among 
the uneducated, the lowest strata of society, and the near- 
criminals. They are least exemplified among the better 
classes of persons in the community, and when they are 
experienced, they are never boasted about, but concealed 
with shame. So when we find anger and revenge ex- 
hibited by little children, we can recognize these feelings 
as an indication of an undeveloped condition, and perhaps 
an indication of the bringing forward of a tendency that 
is becoming vestigial, and being dropped out of the life 
of the race as a characteristic of a human being. 

We can readily understand that pity, sympathy, and 
charity are moral, altruistic, community preserving feel- 
ings. They benefit the community by preserving those 
members of it who are unable to preserve themselves. It 
is by these community preserving feelings that the com- 
munity is bound into a solidarity and each is ready to 
help all the others. But a question arises, whether these 
feelings of pity and sympathy may not become hyper- 
trophied, and be a source of weakness instead of strength 
to a community. We know that there are dependent 
classes in the community that must be supported and 
maintained by the other members. There are paupers 
who are unable to make a living, or to contribute to the 
strength of the community even so much as to produce 



THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS 117 

what they consume. They must be maintained by the 
labor of others. Often these are in special institutions, 
and in so far as they detract from the effective labor of 
the rest of the community, they may be regarded as a 
source of weakness. Then there are insane persons, who 
can never hope to be cured, but must be cared for, and 
thereby they detract just so much from the strength auu 
efficiency of the community. Besides these, there are 
criminals, some of whom can never become anything else, 
and in order to prevent their preying upon the community, 
it is found profitable and productive of less weakness to 
the community to confine them in stately mansions where 
they are cared for by painstaking attendants. 

These dependent and defective classes constitute a se- 
rious burden upon the community, and detract from its 
strength and effectiveness. There is no doubt that the 
community would be strengthened by the elimination ot 
perhaps one-tenth of its members. Why shall we not 
eliminate them? When a person is recognized as a con- 
firmed criminal, the chances of whose reformation are 
quite remote, why should he not be killed at once ? When 
a person has become incurably insane, why not execute 
him in the least painful manner? If a person is a pau- 
per, unable to make a living, so that he must be supported 
by the labor of some one else, who not only makes his own 
living, but can spare a surplus from the product of his 
labor, why not prevent such pauper's weakening effect 
upon the community by killing him ? 

It is also true that the weak, inefficient, criminal and 
insane classes, tend to perpetuate their kind, and the his- 
tory of several families, of which the Jukes were the first 
studied, show that in our present society there is no tend- 
ency toward their elimination. 

To such reasoning only one effective argument can be 
offered. It is true that these defective and delinquent 
persons are a source of weakness to the community and 



118 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

their elimination would strengthen it. It is true that the 
strength of the community preserving feelings of pity, 
sympathy and charity tend to perpetuate this weakness. 
But any community in which the feelings of pity and 
sympathy and similar feelings that tend to preserve the 
community and to generate a community spirit are so 
weak as to permit the killing of these defectives, would 
be held together by bonds so feeble that the community 
would inevitably disintegrate. The only remedy is not 
elimination of defectives after they have appeared, but 
the prevention of their appearance by the removal of 
causes, medical treatment, education and other means 
that will diminish the proportion in the community while 
still preserving the full effectiveness of the feelings that 
prohibit their removal. 

A third group of feelings are the race perpetuating 
feelings. These feelings are fundamental in the develop- 
ment of the race, and have the same basic position as do 
the self preserving feelings. They are even more funda- 
mental than are the community preserving feelings, and 
are even more powerful in leading to action, although 
their range is more circumscribed. 

Beginning with the feelings that accompany the sexual 
sensations, we find the race perpetuating feelings are such 
as are incident to the rearing of children and the propa- 
gation of the species. Perhaps the best example is the love 
of a mother for her child. This is a feeling of such inten- 
sity that it will overcome almost any other kind. A 
woman is likely to be influenced strongly by the feeling of 
fear, a self preserving feeling. But the influence of 
mother love will completely annihilate the self preserving 
feeling, and make of the mother an embodiment of cour- 
age. 

The race perpetuating feelings are especially those that 
are incident to family life, such as the love of a man for 
his wife, a wife for her husband, either present or pros- 



THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS 119 

pective, of parents for children, a brother for a sister, or 
perhaps better, for somebody else's sister. 

If we examine these feelings in the light of their origin 
and their function, we shall readily see why it is that 
the love of a parent for a child is likely to be greater and 
to differ qualitatively from the love of a child for a parent. 
The love of a parent for a child is an example of race per- 
petuating feelings, and has its utility in the continuation 
of the species. The feeling is so strong and of such a 
character that the parent will prefer to die before the 
child does. Nearly any parent will, if necessary, give 
his life for that of the child. A parent can be injured in 
no other way so severely as through his child. We may 
fix the natural termination of the life of a man at the con- 
clusion of the reproductive period, just as it is in the 
ragweed, or any other plant in a high degree of organiza- 
tion. This limit must be set not at the time of the birth 
of the last born child, but must include the period of 
helplessness of the last born infant. This would bring 
the theoretical limit up to .not very far from the tradi- 
tional three score and ten. 

The love of a child for a parent does not contain the 
same elements of feeling as does the love of a parent for 
a child. The love of a child for a parent can scarcely be 
included in the list of race perpetuating feelings. The 
love of a child for a parent in the first period of a child's 
life, up to the age of about seven, belongs rather to the 
egoistic feelings, and is advantageous to the child in en- 
abling him to live. Then comes a change in the feelings 
of a child when he is unconsciously struggling to make 
himself independent, the feelings for a parent change 
and the new feeling is one that must be classified with 
the community preserving group. The three kinds of feel- 
ing designated here by the one word love are as specific- 
ally different from each other as are the feelings of philo- 
progenitiveness, pity and pride. The change in the feel- 



120 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

ings and attitude of a boy toward his father, when we 
compare them at the time when the boy is six with those 
of the same boy at the age of eleven is something to ex- 
cite wonder, and deserves more study than it has ever yet 
received. 

A parent may naturally expect to die before his chil- 
dren do. The death of a child, or of children is likely to 
prove disastrous to the subsequent vigor and courage and 
general usefulness of the parent. If the same kind of an 
effect were to be produced upon the child by the death of 
a parent, the total effect, manifested upon all the persons 
in the community who have parents die, would be disas- 
trous. Hence it is an advantage to the community and 
to the race that the feeling of a child for a parent should 
not be of the same kind, nor so intense as that of a parent 
for a child. 

It is interesting to note that the love of parents for 
children, philoprogenitiveness, is much less strong in 
those animals in which the rate of reproduction is very 
rapid and very high. It quite disappears in fishes, some 
of whom lay many thousand eggs every season and take 
no care of their young. The same thing is true of frogs 
and toads. Calculation shows that a single toad will lay 
ten thousand eggs in one season, and although the eggs 
are very carefully placed, no further attention is paid to 
them, and we are compelled to believe that the feeling 
of philoprogenitiveness is absolutely lacking. A full 
grown bullfrog will eat its own progeny as readily as it 
will any other kind of food. Of the ten thousand eggs, 
not more than two on the average, will come to maturity. 
It appears that the large number of eggs is one device by 
which the perpetuity of the race is assured when the feel- 
ing that prompts parental care is wanting ; while, when it 
is present, not so many eggs or so many young are pro- 
duced, and the reproductive forces are conserved by it. 
There are, then, two different devices by which the race 



THE CLASSIFICATION OP FEELINGS 121 

perpetuation is secured, and, in the human being, the de- 
vice that is employed is the race perpetuating feeling of 
philoprogenitiveness, instead of large reproductive power. 

In plants we have a manifestation of the same device 
that is employed in the case of fishes and toads. The race 
is perpetuated and improvement is secured by a high rate 
of reproduction, or the production of a large number of 
seeds. In this way, the device of philoprogenitiveness is 
rendered unnecessary. A single ragweed may produce 
five thousand seeds, and some plants have a higher rate 
of reproduction. 

The race perpetuating feelings are rather late in ap- 
pearing, and scarcely make themselves manifest in typical 
forms before the age of adolescence. Then they assume 
a dominant importance in the life of the individual. 

All the feelings that are experienced may be classified 
into these three groups. The religious feelings do not 
constitute a fourth group, or rather, they constitute a 
group in a different system of classification, whose basis 
is another characteristic than the function they have 
performed in the development of the race. One of the 
most puzzling questions for writers upon religious feel- 
ings has been that of the utility of the religious feelings. 

Religious feelings are those feelings that accompany 
the perception or contemplation of God, in some one of 
his aspects. This is not an advantageous function of the 
feelings, and the religious feelings, as religious, have had 
no advantageous function in the development of the race. 
They are not grouped as religious because of any advan- 
tageous function, but because of the object whose contem- 
plation arouses the feelings. The religious feelings, like 
every other feeling, have been advantageous, but they 
have been advantageous because the several religious 
feelings are either self preserving, community preserving, 
or race perpetuating. Every religious feeling may be 
classified into one or the other of these three groups. 



122 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

Many of the most important religious feelings belong 
to the race perpetuating group. A good illustration may- 
be found in the religious doctrine of immortality, which is 
closely related to the perpetuation of the self in the chil- 
dren. The strongest appeal that can be made for one to 
believe in the doctrine of immortality is the consideration 
of the death of a child. Not nearly so effective is the 
death of a parent or a sister or a brother, still less is that 
of a friend, while if the doctrine of immortality promised 
merely a resurrection and a continued existence of the in- 
dividual in solitude, or in association with mere acquaint- 
ances or enemies, the doctrine would lose its attractive- 
ness, and would be believed by few. But when one con- 
templates the reunion after death with a beloved child, 
it presents an irresistible appeal. 

The figures of speech employed in describing and dis- 
cussing religious experiences are largely those derived 
from family life. Father, mother, sister, brother, bride 
of Christ, and many others, are as appropriate in religious 
discussion as in family life. 

The connection between religious experience and the 
phenomena of adolescence has been often commented 
upon and described. Adolescence is the time when the 
race perpetuating feelings begin to exercise a dominant 
influence in the life of the individual, and this is exactly 
the time that the most intense religious experiences occur. 
Much the larger number of religious conversions occur 
in the adolescent years. The ceremonies of confirmation 
take place in those churches that employ them just at the 
beginning of adolescence. 

But not all religious feelings belong to the race per- 
petuating group. The attempt is made in our modern 
churches, at least, to justify religion on moral grounds, 
and to demonstrate that religion not only conduces to 
morality, but is inseparable from it. There is no doubt 
that some religious feelings accompany actions that are 



THE CLASSIFICATION OF FEELINGS 123 

altruistic, moral, and therefore, they belong to the com- 
munity preserving group. All of those feelings that are 
emphasized by religion for the purpose of cultivating 
morality must be classified here. 

Still others belong to the self preserving, or selfish 
group. Many persons and many churches emphasize the 
duties of religion as a means of obtaining entrance into 
Heaven and escaping Hell. Also, religion is practiced 
frequently as a means of obtaining the assistance of God 
in accomplishing any undertaking in the present life. 
All such hedonistic doctrines appeal to the feelings of the 
self preserving group. 

Different religions and different churches of the same 
religion vary widely in the relative importance that they 
lay upon these different groups of the religious feelings. 
In its self preserving, community preserving, or race per- 
petuating function, with different individuals and under 
different circumstances, each religious feeling has with- 
out doubt been advantageous in the development of the 
race. 

Synopsis. 

1 — The purpose of classification is to show forth impor- 
tant relations among the objects classified which might 
otherwise be overlooked. 

2 — The most important classification of feelings is that 
which shows the functions that feelings have performed 
in the development of the race. 

3 — All feelings may be classified into three groups 
according to the functions that they have exercised; self 
preserving, community preserving, and race perpetuating. 

4 — The self preserving feelings accompany actions that 
tend to preserve the individual. They are called also ego- 
istic feelings, and selfish feelings. They are especially 
dominant in children. Fear is one of them. 

5 — The community preserving feelings accompany ac- 



124 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

tions that tend to benefit the community or some member 
of the community. They are also called altruistic, and 
moral feelings, although some of them, such as anger, hate 
and revenge, by a change of circumstances under which 
the community exists, have become vestigial and are con- 
sidered immoral. Courage is a typical community pre- 
serving feeling. 

6 — The race perpetuating feelings are coordinate with 
the self preserving feelings. They accompany actions that 
tend to perpetuate the species. Three divisions may be 
recognized: sexual feelings, conjugal love, and philopro- 
genitiveness. 

7 — The religious feelings do not constitute a fourth 
group, but constitute a group in a different system of 
classification. Every religious feeling may be classified 
into one or another of the three groups of the self preserv- 
ing, community preserving, or race perpetuating feelings. 



Chapter VIII 
THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS. 

The esthetic feelings are those aroused by the contem- 
plation of the beautiful or the ugly. They are commonly 
supposed to constitute a fourth group, distinct from the 
self preserving, the community preserving, and the race 
perpetuating feelings; and the problem of their func- 
tions in the development of the race has been a most 
difficult one for evolutionists to solve. So serious has this 
problem been felt to be that many persons not only look 
upon the esthetic feelings as furnishing the most incon- 
trovertible evidence of the supernatural character of the 
human soul, but believe that there is no possibility of ac- 
counting for the esthetic feelings by any natural evolu- 
tionary process, such as accounts for the development of 
the physical organism. That the esthetic feelings may be 
accounted for only by the introduction of a miraculous 
element into the evolutionary process, is held by many 
scientific men. 

The separation of the esthetic feelings from the other 
groups, and the assumption that they constitute an ele- 
ment in the affective life unrelated to any other depart- 
ment, has been the source of abundant error and much 
unjustified speculation. It is the purpose of the present 
chapter to show that esthetic feelings are not different in 
character from other feelings, but have their concomitants 
in the same cimcumstance by which other feelings are 
explained. Each feeling that accompanies the perception 
of an object that is adjudged beautiful or ugly, has its 

125 



126 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

concomitant in the resistance that the nervous impulse 
encounters in the process of perceiving. Esthetic feelings 
are subject to the same laws of habit and its consequent 
decrease in intensity, and manifest the same properties 
of specific character, intensity and tone as do other feel- 
ings. The principal reason for setting them off as a sepa- 
rate group has been the difficulty in understanding how 
they have contributed anything of advantage to the im- 
provement of the race, and what function they have per- 
formed in racial progress. But when it is shown that the 
feelings recognized as esthetic have affiliations with 
groups whose utility and functions are already recognized, 
the difficulty vanishes, and it is seen that they constitute 
a group in a different system of classification, whose dis- 
tinguishing character is not the function of the feeling in 
racial development, but a totally different characteristic. 
The esthetic feelings can all be classified into the self 
preserving, the community preserving and the race per- 
petuating groups. Their utility comes not in consequence 
of their being esthetic, but because they belong to the 
other three groups. 

The assumption is generally made that there is some 
standard of beauty inherent in the human mind to which 
all objects that are adjudged beautiful must conform. 
Many different suppositions have been made concerning 
the nature of this standard. The curved line is supposed 
to be the line of beauty because it typifies the freedom 
which is the ultimate desire of the human soul. The util- 
ity which an object manifests is another standard, con- 
formity to which is believed to render an object beauti- 
ful. If it is adapted perfectly to the performance of the 
work for which it is designed, then its contemplation af- 
fords esthetic enjoyment. Upon this view, the works of 
nature are beautiful, since they are perfectly adapted 
to the service for which God intended them. 

There is beauty in the human form, and this beauty is 



THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS 127 

found in the close approximation that any particular 
human body makes to the standard that God has estab- 
lished. Man is made in the image of God, and the more 
closely he approximates the Divine Image, the more beau- 
tiful he becomes. But ornament is also beautiful, and be- 
yond accentuating the elements of beauty that are indi- 
cated by some of the other theories, no reason can be sug- 
gested for the beauty of ornamentation. 

An examination of the theories of beauty will show 
that there is no single one advanced which will explain 
the beauty in the different classes of esthetic objects, and 
scarcely any two theories fail to contradict each other. 
While one theory may be satisfactory for one class of ex- 
amples which has suggested it and from which it is de- 
rived, it utterly fails when applied to others. Hence, 
also, there is no scientific theory of beauty, and science 
is generally considered as incompatible with an apprecia- 
tion of the beautiful, and disposed to deny the importance 
of esthetics. Although the theories that are presented 
are largely discredited by scientific studies, they are still 
popular, and influential in a rhetorical way. 

The same laws that have been applied to other feelings 
apply equally well to the esthetic. A thing that when 
seen for the first time is adjudged to be beautiful, becomes 
by custom unable to furnish the esthetic feelings, and 
may be reduced to the rank of the positively ugly. We 
see examples of this in musical selections and in the 
domain of pictorial art. To an uncultivated taste, a piece 
of music may afford the highest esthetic enjoyment, which 
after a greater musical experience will appear positively 
painful. The gaudily colored pictures of the tomato can 
and billboard type may be highly appreciated by an un- 
cultivated and barbarous taste, but be a source of painful 
intolerance to one who is more artistically cultivated. 

Anything that is exceedingly common is not consid- 
ered beautiful, and fails to arouse in us a pleasurable 



128 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

esthetic feeling. The indifference of the mountaineer to 
the beauties of his surroundings has often been remarked, 
and has been regarded as indicative of a low order of in- 
telligence. But it should not be so considered, any more 
than should the failure of the critic to discover beauty 
in the flat prairies that constitute his home, nor in the 
common plants that make for him the weeds in his garden. 
Persons who are troubled every spring with dandelions 
in their lawns are able to discover beauties in the edel- 
weiss which the dandelion does not disclose. The grace- 
ful fern is perhaps even less beautiful than is the rag- 
weed or the mullein, but its beauty must be determined 
by its ability to arouse pleasurable emotion in those who 
view the different plants. The flat prairie is not more 
monotonous than is the ocean that has been the subject 
of so much poetical rhapsody. 

The failure to see beauty in a common weed, or to dis- 
cover that one's own dooryard is a panorama of scenic 
beauty, should not be regarded as an indication of a lack 
of esthetic appreciation, but the failure to experience 
esthetic pleasure in these too common scenes is merely 
another indication of the real nature of esthetic feeling 
and its affiliation with other groups. 

The perception of common things has brought about 
such a condition of the brain cells involved that not a 
sufficient amount of resistance is engendered to accom- 
pany a pleasurable feeling, so we fail to appreciate the 
esthetic value. Eagtime, a street piano, popular songs, 
a hand organ, phonograph music — are all capable of fur- 
nishing quite as much pleasure to the ear of one who has 
not experienced a great deal of music as is the finest 
oratorio to the one who has spent years in musical study. 
The skilled musician was at one time able to appreciate 
the beauty of the hand organ or ragtime. When such 
was the case, classical music was anything but pleasurable 
to him. The simpler music furnished a sufficient amount 



THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS 129 

of resistance to accompany the pleasurable feeling, but, 
by habit, the resistance diminished and the feeling aroused 
ceased to have a pleasurable tone. 

On the other hand, nothing is likely to be considered 
by us as truly beautiful that is altogether unknown and 
unrelated to something else that we have experienced. 
Such an object of contemplation is designated as the 
bizarre and ugly, and the esthetic feeling accompanying 
its perception has a painful tone. The ugly is as truly 
a subject for esthetic consideration as is the beautiful. 
The difference between the ugly and the beautiful is in 
the tone of feeling engendered by their contemplation. 
The ugly is somthing with which we are usually quite 
unfamiliar, and when we become acquainted with it, it 
ceases to be ugly, and the esthetic feeling acompanying the 
perception changes to one having a pleasant tone. The 
amount of resistance decreases, thus changing the tone 
of the feeling. 

There is really little advantage in attempting to make 
a sharp definition of beauty, nor to delimit the esthetic 
feelings from the other groups. The definition of beauty 
will always involve a subjective element, and a thing will 
be beautiful to one person which is not at all so to an- 
other. Beauty can be defined only by means of the feel- 
ings which it arouses in persons, and the feelings vary 
in different persons according to experience, habit, nat- 
ural constitution and pathological conditions. Any phys- 
iological condition that will modify feeling, will by the 
same process enter into the judgment of the beautiful. 
Hence it seems to be the case that there can be no abso- 
lute standard of beauty, and that the esthetic feelings 
are quite largely individual and subjective. 

Esthetic feelings determine what shall be called beau- 
tiful. They resemble each other in the fact that they 
afford pleasure or displeasure, and are aroused by the 
mere contemplation of the objects that are thereby de- 



130 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

scribed as beautiful or ugly. The feeling arises from the 
contemplation, not from the use that is made of the object 
contemplated. 

In discussing the relations the esthetic feelings hold to 
each other and to the groups of feelings already de- 
scribed, we must first of all discriminate the esthetic from 
the pseudo-esthetic. Much of the feeling that we call 
esthetic is not truly so, but originates in another circum- 
stance than the actual qualities of the object whose per- 
ception accompanies the feeling. 

Very few persons will trust themselves to select a dia- 
mond from the stock of an unreliable dealer and decide 
upon the genuineness of the stone for themselves. This 
means that the person is unable to discriminate accu- 
rately the genuine from the false. The pleasure derived 
from looking at and owning the imitation ought to be ex- 
actly that which is derived from the genuine, but such is 
not the case. A person who takes much pleasure in own- 
ing and wearing a large diamond that he believes to be 
genuine, will lose much of the pleasure as soon as he 
learns that it is an imitation. Just the difference in the 
pleasurable feeling experienced in wearing the genuine 
and the imitation indicates the amount of feeling in such 
a case, that is pseudo-esthetic. In the example given, we 
shall see that nearly all the pleasurable feeling is pseudo- 
esthetic. 

Much of the pleasurable feeling experienced in viewing 
a noted painting is pseudo-esthetic. The same thing is 
true in listening to the rendition of a musical number by 
some celebrated artist, or in reading some famous book. 
That the pleasurable feeling is largely pseudo-esthetic 
will be shown by the test previously employed. Let the 
famous singer be announced under another name, and the 
selection rendered be called by another title than that by 
which it is well known, and a large amount of the pleasure 
will be wanting. If the famous painting were unlabeled, 



THE PROBLEM OP ESTHETICS 131 

or the production attributed to an unknown artist, few 
persons would discover that it manifested great beauty, 
and a much smaller amount of pleasure would be expe- 
rienced in looking at it. Just last winter, all expert 
critics of art in Detroit were unable to decide whether a 
picture of St. Augustine was worth $600 or $50,000. If it 
were painted by Murillo or Barbarelli it was worth the 
larger sum. But if not, it was comparatively valueless. 

No one will be so rash as to assert that the pleasure 
derived from exhibiting the latest fashions, whether in 
the matter of clothes, furniture, houses, sports, or sum- 
mer outings, is truly esthetic. If it were possible to es- 
tablish an absolute standard by which each of these things 
might be judged, few would venture to assert that the 
latest fashions would more nearly correspond to it than 
did the ones which they displaced. If such a standard 
were established, not many of the fashionable things 
whose possession and exhibition afford so much pleasure 
would, in all probability, conform to it. The standard 
that is conformed to and by which the beauty of the article 
is judged is rather that of the reputably correct than the 
esthetically true. 

The winding paths and sidewalks through a level lawn 
are supposed to represent a standard of beauty. What 
they really represent is the ability to spend money in a 
manner that is not economically productive. So the hand- 
made furniture, manifesting defects which are looked 
upon as evidences of the genuineness of the article, con- 
forms to the standard of pecuniary display rather than to 
that of beauty. A photograph is or may be as artistically 
true as is the painting of the same scene. The preference 
for the painting depends not upon the esthetic value, but 
the pseudo-esthetic. 

The same thing is true of archaic furniture and house- 
hold utensils. The original owners of the brass candle- 
sticks and high posted bedsteads could see little beauty 



132 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

in them when the fashion changed. They were so com- 
mon, that by continued seeing the nervous impulses ac- 
companying their perception encountered little resistance. 
Now, that the objects are no longer common, relic hunters 
find in them a great deal of beauty. This appreciation 
of the archaic is almost altogether pseudo-esthetic, not 
esthetic. 

No doubt the ancient Greeks thought their statuary 
beautiful. But if they had had an opportunity to examine 
modern statuary, it would not have been compared to their 
own so disadvantageously by them as it is by modern 
critics. Much of the admiration for Greek sculpture 
must be considered pseudo-esthetic and explained by the 
principle of the appreciation of the archaic. 

The standard of beauty by which these pseudo-esthetic 
feelings are aroused is that of the reputably correct. This 
is, however, determined by several circumstances. It can- 
not be said that any one standard applies to all the nu- 
merous examples of things that are adjudged beautiful, 
but in nearly all cases it will be found that the ultimate 
standard is one that involves a conspicuous expenditure 
of money, or a conspicuous expenditure of time in a non- 
economic way. New clothes may not be more efficient nor 
more beautiful than the old, but the new represents the 
ability to spend money, while to wear the old might be 
considered as indicative of a desire to economize. Hence 
the new is to be preferred. The shine on a coat sleeve is 
perhaps not less beautiful than the shine on one's shoes, 
but much effort must be expended in keeping it off one 
and putting it on the other. So some articles of clothing 
are regarded as esthetic and beautiful that are detri- 
mental to efficient labor, and the fact that it is impossible 
to maintain the clothing in proper condition while effect- 
ive labor is going on is one of the elements in adjudging 
such articles of clothing as correct and beautiful. 

This standard of beauty is a conventional one, estab- 



THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS 133 

lished by general consent, and the feelings aroused by the 
contemplation of objects conforming to it depends upon 
our association with other persons. New fashions; ex- 
pensive ornaments; famous attractions of scenery, music, 
painting or architecture, would all lose much of their 
attractiveness were it not for the presence and judgment 
of other persons. The feelings are quite as real, and the 
pleasure therefrom is certainly as valid as if other per- 
sons were not concerned. 

But all such feelings are capable of being aroused only 
in consequence of our association with other persons, and 
this is a sufficient mark of distinction to enable us to 
group them together under the name pseudo-esthetic. 
Since these feelings originate in the relation that we hold 
to other persons, we are justified in classing them with 
the community preserving feelings. 

A different standard of beauty will be discovered in 
another group of esthetic feelings. Many persons regard 
little children as beautiful, and there are very few parents 
who are not susceptible to this kind of esthetic apprecia- 
tion. So far is this kind of esthetic feeling removed from 
the pseudo-esthetic, that every parent regards his own 
child as most beautiful, even though the judgment of 
nearly every one else may contradict his own. The beauty 
of his own child that appeals to him does not depend upon 
its approximation to a standard that is reputably cor- 
rect. A parent regards all children from a different 
esthetic standpoint than does one who is not a parent, or 
one in whom the instinct of philoprogenitiveness is not 
strongly developed. The judgment of beauty and the 
esthetic feeling accompanying the perception of an object 
of this kind must be associated with the group of the race 
perpetuating feelings. 

To the same group belongs the judgment of beauty and 
its accompanying feeling that arises from the contem- 
plation of the lover of the opposite sex. Here if anywhere 



134 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

there is no accounting for tastes and the judgment of 
beauty is of the most diverse character. There is prob- 
ably no woman who is not the most beautiful woman in 
the world to some man, or who does not possess the 
proper qualifications to make her so regarded. 

Much of the beauty that is discovered in dress is asso- 
ciated with this fact, and the accompanying feelings be- 
long to the race perpetuating group. Men and women 
differ in mental and physical characteristics, and in some 
qualities that appear to be so subtle as to defy description. 
Ornamentation of dress that seems to accentuate these 
differences is adjudged to be beautiful, and is attractive 
to persons of the opposite sex. Only such an explanation 
as this will account for the padding of the coat shoulders 
in men, and the equally pronounced padding of the hips 
and bust in women. Nearly every characteristic of women's 
dress that is adjudged to be appropriate for the most 
formal occasions may be accounted for, first by the accen- 
tuation of the feminine characteristics, and secondly by 
its manifesting conspicuous expenditure of money. The 
feelings that are aroused by the one element of beauty 
belong to the race perpetuating group ; and those that are 
aroused by the other to the community preserving group. 

Two different classes of feelings belong to the egoistic, 
or self preserving feelings, and two different standards of 
beauty are employed in judging of objects whose contem- 
plation arouses the feelings. Some objects are judged to 
be beautiful because of the utility they manifest. In 
times of distress or need, the object that assists us out of 
our difficulty will never be thought of as ugly, no matter 
what it may be. The thing which is recognized as being 
perfectly adapted to the purpose it is intended to serve 
will be adjudged beautiful, and arouse in us the esthetic 
feeling. This is the esthetic feeling that is experienced 
when examining a delicate piece of machinery, such as a 
watch or a highclass microscope, a locomotive engine, or 



THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS 135 

an X-ray machine. In all such cases, it is the perception 
of relations, not merely of the objects, that accompanies 
the esthetic feelings. This is the source of esthetic appre- 
ciation that is experienced in studying the natural adapta- 
tions manifested so abundantly in animals and plants. 
Few persons have ever examined carefully the mechanism 
employed in the distribution of the pollen of the mountain 
laurel, (Kalmia) or the numerous devices which con- 
tribute to the reproduction in the ragweed, (Ambrosia) 
or the adaptive mechanisms in the giant water bug, (Belos- 
toma) without experiencing this kind of esthetic enjoy- 
ment. 

While some writers upon esthetics assume that this 
principle of utility is the universal principle of beauty, 
there are many persons who assert that such illustrations 
as are here adduced are not examples of beauty and 
esthetic appreciation at all. It may perhaps be properly 
a question whether they come under the head of esthetics, 
but whatever the feelings may be called that are aroused 
by the contemplation of such objects as the mechanisms 
of the ragweed, Belostoma, and Kalmia, they belong to 
the egoistic, or self preserving group. Personally the 
writer is inclined to describe them as esthetic of the most 
pronounced character. 

Occasionally this kind of judgment of the beautiful con- 
flicts with that which belongs to the community preserv- 
ing, or pseudo-esthetic group. The winding sidewalks 
through a level lawn cannot be considered beautiful when 
judged by the standard of utility. Their beauty is deter- 
mined by the pseudo-esthetic standards, and in this case 
it is especially the pecuniary standard of conspicuous ex- 
penditure. But when a person is able to demonstrate his 
ability to spend money in unprofitable ways more em- 
phatically than this would indicate, it is very likely that 
his standard of beauty will demand straight sidewalks. 
So while the moderately wealthy are likely to appreciate 



136 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

the beauty of outside ornamentation of their dwellings, 
the excessively rich are as likely to find more beauty in a 
mansion that is severely plain. The gingerbread Queen 
Anne architecture appeals only to persons in a certain 
stage of pecuniary culture. The same thing will account 
for the attraction that mission furniture has for those 
who are notoriously able to spend money, so that there 
is no probability that they adopt mission furniture for the 
purposes of economy, although it has an added attraction 
of novelty in the fact that it is not the usual furnishings 
of the house in which most of those who admire it have 
been reared. 

The other group of the esthetic feelings that must be 
classed with the self preserving, or egoistic, is that which 
involves directly the activity of the senses. This is the 
esthetic feeling accompanying the perception of the rain- 
bow, or wild flowers, or scenic beauty that is not that of 
some noted locality such as Niagara Falls would be. This 
is the true, genuine, esthetic feeling, accompanying the 
play activity of the senses, and which justifies more 
nearly than any other esthetic feeling, Herbert Spencer's 
determination of the association of esthetic activities 
with play. 

Thus the esthetic feelings fall naturally into the three 
groups whose functions have been already described, and 
there is no necessity for establishing a separate group to 
include them. We see also that it is impossible that there 
shall be any single standard of beauty, or any single prin- 
ciple to which all judgments of what is beautiful must 
conform. There is no single type of esthetic feeling, but 
there are as many kinds of esthetic feelings as there are 
standards of beauty. We have described two kinds that 
belong to the self-preserving group, two that are affiliated 
with the race perpetuating group, and one, two or many 
that have affiliations with the community preserving 
group, and which we have called the pseudo-esthetic. 



THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS 137 

Each particular type of feeling will have its own standard 
by which the beauty of the thing whose perception accom- 
panies the esthetic feeling will be judged. 

It remains for us to show the function that the esthetic 
feelings have had in the development of the race. Our 
fundamental proposition is that every feeling has now, 
or has had in the recent past, some function that has in- 
ured to the benefit of the individual or of the race. Al- 
though the esthetic feelings have been shown to belong 
to the several groups whose function we have been able 
to demonstrate, yet it is necessary in case of the esthetic 
feelings, to show how they may in themselves have been 
advantageous. 

The suggestion of Herbert Spencer, that the esthetic 
feelings have their origin in play, furnishes a key to the 
understanding of the whole situation. While only that 
group of esthetic feelings that constitute one of the two 
divisions belonging to the self preserving feelings can be 
truly called play, yet the demonstration of the utility of 
play will explain for us the whole function of esthetics. 
An explanation of the esthetic functions can be afforded 
only by some kind of a physiological or biological hypo- 
thesis. 

Let us suppose that of the seven hundred million or 
more brain cells, three hundred million of them are in- 
volved in the experiences that occur in the ordinary ac- 
tivities of the human being. Every activity that preserves 
the individual, performs the functions of society and per- 
petuates the race, demands the transmission of impulses 
through some combination of cells in the three hundred 
million. The other four hundred million are lying fallow 
and undeveloped. If, now, some experience should be 
brought about that would involve some of the new and 
undeveloped cells, the resistance encountered in the new 
combination would be pleasurable, if not too intense, and 
the cells previously undeveloped would be brought into 



138 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

activity. We might call the activity play, and the accom- 
panying feeling esthetic. 

A nervous impulse demands the liberation of some 
amount of nervo-motive force, and is itself the best evi- 
dence of the force which is liberated. The probability 
is that the nerve force is liberated in the developed cells. 
The katabolic processes that liberate the energy occur in 
the cell bodies. While it is possible that the nerve force 
is liberated in some other elements of the brain, few phys- 
iologists are likely to question the statement that it is 
liberated in the developed neurons. Neurons become de- 
veloped in consequence of their exercising activity which 
is manifested by the oxidation of their tissues and its 
sequential restoration, and the transmission of impulses 
through them. 

Granting the validity of this speculation, it follows 
that the esthetic feelings accompanying the resistance 
encountered in transmitting impulses through combina- 
tions involving cells belonging to areas that we have 
called fallow, will call into action and demand the de- 
velopment of cells that otherwise would never become 
functional. 

The hearing center in the brain becomes developed by 
means of hearing sounds incident to every day life. As 
a result of such experiences, only a small part of the num- 
ber of cells in the hearing center would ever become de- 
veloped. Music involves a much larger number of sounds 
and sound combinations than would ever be experienced 
by a person without musical training. Hence it is that 
the hearing center of persons with a wide musical expe- 
rience would contain a much larger number of developed 
neurons than would the hearing center of the same person 
if he had never had the musical experience. 

The same thing may be said of the esthetic feelings 
accompanying the activity of the sense of sight. Every 
new thing seen encourages the development of a large 



THE PROBLEM OF ESTHETICS 139 

number of cells, and in esthetics, new things are to be 
looked at. Only things more or less new are capable of 
arousing the esthetic feeling. Novelty and something dif- 
ferent are always conditions of the esthetic feeling. It 
must not be too new, too novel and unrelated, or the effect 
will be painful and the esthetic advantage will be lost. 

Esthetic experiences, then, permit and encourage the 
development of neurons that would otherwise never be- 
come functional. In the developed neurons, nerve force 
is generated, tissue is oxidized, and the esthetic expe- 
riences are likely to result in liberating a considerably 
greater amount of nervous energy than would be possible 
were it not for the neurons developed by them. The 
greater amount of energy liberated in the brain, the bet- 
ter will all the mental functions be performed. So we 
have from the esthetic experiences and the esthetic feel- 
ings which accompany them, a direct and an indirect ad- 
vantage in the growth of the species and the race. 

This does not mean that in any particular case, a per- 
son who has an esthetic appreciation will be capable of 
generating a larger amount of nervous energy than will 
another particular individual who has not such esthetic 
experience ; but it means that the person who has had the 
esthetic experience will be capable of generating a larger 
amount of nervous energy than that same person would 
be able to do if he had not had the esthetic experience. 
In the aggregate, then, the esthetic experiences favor the 
development of nervous energy and intellectual power. 
The persons and the nations who have the highest esthetic 
appreciation, will, other things being taken into account, 
be able to accomplish the greater amount of intellectual 
work, and be the best fitted to survive in the struggle for 
existence. 

Our theory will show why it is that only the pleasurable 
esthetic feelings can be serviceable, and why there is the 
disposition to limit the field of esthetics to the pleasant 



140 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

feelings. A painful feeling is the accompaniment of a re- 
sistance greater than is beneficial to the cell or to the 
organism. If the resistance is great, the tissue will be 
used up faster than it can be restored, and the final result 
will be injurious. Hence it is that the painful esthetic 
feelings, those which accompany the judgment of the ugly, 
are not helpful to the growth of the neuroblasts, nor to 
the development of the greater energy than would be lib- 
erated in the absence of the esthetic experiences. 

Synopsis. 

1 — Esthetic feelings are those which accompany the 
perception of an object that is judged to be beautiful or 
ugly. 

2 — It is unnecessary to establish a fourth group for 
the esthetic feelings, since all of them may be distributed 
among the self preserving, the community preserving, and 
the race perpetuating groups. 

3 — Pseudo-esthetic feelings are those arising from the 
contemplation of objects which are judged to be beauti- 
ful according to a standard established by society, or the 
community as a whole. They belong to the community 
preserving group. 

4 — There is no single standard of beauty to which all 
objects can be made to conform. 

5 — The truly esthetic feelings are those arising most 
nearly from the exercise of the senses. Such activities 
conform most closely to the definition of play. 

6 — Esthetic feelings afford the same advantage that 
comes from play. They assist in the development of a 
larger number of neurons than would otherwise become 
developed, and so favor the liberation of a greater amount 
of nervous energy. 



Chapter IX 
THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT. 

It must be evident from what has already been stated 
that there is a very close relation between the intellectual 
process and feeling. They are not separated in time, nor 
is there a sequential relation between them. The relation 
is not that of cause and effect, for feeling cannot be con- 
sidered the cause of the intellect, nor the intellect the 
cause of the feeling. 

Many writers upon psychology have regarded feeling 
as an obscure, weak, indefinite intellectual process, or a 
process which when it becomes clear and definite is in- 
tellect. Intellect is thus regarded as having its origin in 
feeling, and changes from feeling to intellect by becoming 
definite and clear. Even some of our most prominent psy- 
chologists of the present day are inclined to consider the 
essential difference between intellect and feeling as one 
of clearness. They would say that intellect grows out of 
feeling through a process of attention. 

Such a theory would explain nicely the reciprocal re- 
lation between intellect and feeling, and would permit a 
satisfactory explanation of the specific differences in feel- 
ings; but it utterly fails to explain the whole series of 
phenomena in which there is manifested a direct relation 
between feeling and intellect, nor can it by any possi- 
bility account for the fact that feeling may be intensified 
by a process of attention. It is a hypothesis that can be 
justified only by neglecting a large number of the facts. 

To the psychologists who have regarded intellect and 
feeling both as activities of a self active entity, the rela- 

141 



142 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

tion has naturally appeared to be not a very close one. 
The mind could work in one way or it could work in the 
other as it pleased. However, that mind which had most 
power in one direction was very likely to have a corre- 
spondingly large power in the other. Hence we find the 
older psychologists emphasizing the fact that whatever 
the relation between feeling and intellect might be, when- 
ever we found a man who manifested a great deal of one, 
we were likely to find him also manifesting much of the 
other. Quotations from two popular elementary text- 
books of twenty-five years ago will clearly illustrate the 
general opinion among psychologists of that day. 

"The relation of the sensibilities to the intellect is easily 
understood. An act of the sensibilities is usually pre- 
ceded by one of the intellect. . . . The strength of the 
feeling is usually proportional to the strength of the in- 
tellect. When the cognition of the intellect is deep and 
vivid, the feelings arising will be strong and vivid." 
(Brooks, Mental Science and Culture.) 

"The range and power of the sensibilities, the mind's 
capacity for feeling, depends upon the range and vigor 
of the intellectual powers. Within certain limits, the one 
varies as the other. The man of strong and vigorous mind 
is capable of stronger emotion than the man of dwarfed 
and puny intellect." (Haven, Mental Philosophy.) 

It can be seen how naturally a writer who considered 
feeling and intellect as a manifestation in different direc- 
tion of the power of a mind should regard the two as 
directly related to each other. No connection of a causal 
nature could be imagined, but the mind manifested its 
strength in one direction as certainly as in another. 

The larger number of psychologists of recent years have 
emphasized the difference between intellect and feeling 
rather than the similarity. It is a common expression 
to speak of the opposition between the head and the heart, 
and the meaning of this extraordinary physiological as- 



THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT 143 

sumption is that feeling and intellect have some kind of 
an opposing relation to each other. It would seem, how- 
ever, that the opposing relation is not one of reciprocity, 
but one of direct conflict in determining a course of ac- 
tion. The opposition is very different in its nature from 
that which is obtained from a rational, physiological in- 
terpretation of feeling. 

The fact has already been mentioned that many physi- 
ological psychologists are inclined to assume a separate 
system of end organs, nerve carriers, and brain centers 
for feeling from those that are involved in the intellectual 
processes. Especially is this true for the feeling pro- 
cesses of the simplest kind, the physical feelings that 
accompany sensations, the affection proper. The assump- 
tion of end organs and brain centers for physical pain, 
and its discrimination from mental unpleasantness is a 
manifestation of this tendency. Nearly all psychologists 
who consider all physical pain as a sensation, regard feel- 
ing as obscure and indefinite intellect. The latter opinion 
has in all probability influenced the adoption of the for- 
mer. However, it seems safe to predict that such a tend- 
ency is not likely to proceed much farther than it has 
already gone. 

Among the new psychologists, however, there are two 
radically different opinions concerning the relation be- 
tween intellect and feeling. The one regards them as so 
related that one varies with the other. Gardiner, in a 
review of Sollier's book, The Mechanism 0/ the Emotions, 
rather laments the fact that Sollier considers that emo- 
tion is at the expense of effective intellectual work. This 
opinion of Gardiner, shared by many present-day psy- 
chologists, has a different origin from the same opinion 
held by the psychologists of twenty-five years ago. It is 
supported by observation rather than theories, although 
the observations are interpreted in an unsatisfactory 



144 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

manner. A true interpretation will show that the ob- 
servations do not warrant such a conclusion. 

But there are not wanting psychologists who hold that 
the two processes are closely related, and that the re- 
lation is a reciprocal one. Thus Ribot says "It is highly 
probable that in the state of surprise we have imperfect 
knowledge because we have too much sensation." (Atten- 
tion, p. 25.) The context shows that by this use of the 
word sensation the translator means feeling. And so 
Hoffding remarks, "Cognition and feeling must thus 
stand in inverse relation to each other. The more strongly 
one is manifested, the less strength is at the command 
of the other." (Psychology, p. 98.) And again (p. 232) : 
"In respect of strength they [feeling and sensation] stand 
in inverse relation to each other, so that the stronger the 
feeling becomes, the more the properly sense-perceptive, 
or cognitive element disappears." 

Spencer, (Psychology, Vol. I, p. 478) recognized the 
same fact. He says "These several expositions, I think, 
make it clear that cognition and feeling, throughout all 
phases of their evolution, are at once antithetical and in- 
separable." 

Whatever may be the relation between feeling and in- 
tellect, we may be very sure that a corresponding rela- 
tion exists between their physiological concomitants. If 
we can determine what the concomitants of the two proc- 
esses may be, we shall have a means of describing and pic- 
turing in understandable terms the relation between in- 
tellect and feeling. 

We have based our whole interpretation of feeling upon 
the hypothesis that it has for its physiological correlate 
the resistance that a nervous impulse encounters in pass- 
ing through a nervous arc. In the process of perception, 
sensation, act of reasoning, or judging, an impulse must 
pass through some combination of brain cells. If we con- 
sider the passage through the arc as the concomitant of 



THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT 145 

the intellectual process, and the resistance that the cur- 
rent encounters as the concomitant of feeling, we have 
an easy way of picturing the relation between the two 
processes, and our theory corroborates the observations 
of those persons who conceive the two processes to be 
reciprocally related. 

The greater the amount of nervous energy that passes 
through the arc, the greater the amount of intellectual 
work that is accomplished. From this hypothesis there 
will be little dissent, for the conception is a common one. 
Every observation of the learning process confirms it. 
Every theory of learning, interest, exercise, attention, 
good health, constant study, all of them are partial appli- 
cations of this hypothesis, and arise from a consideration 
of only one factor in the determination of the amount of 
nervous energy that is transmitted. 

The effect of resistance is to stop out part of the cur- 
rent and to diminish the amount that succeeds in passing 
through the arc. The greater the portion of the nervous 
current that is stopped out by the resistance, the greater 
the amount of feeling that will be experienced, and the 
smaller will be the portion that remains for the doing of 
intellectual work. This is the general law, and no ex- 
ception will be found when the law is properly stated. 

The relation is quite similar to that of the ohm and 
the ampere in an electric current. It must be remem- 
bered, however, that this is merely an analogy, and must 
be modified very much before the ohm can be considered 
as an accurate illustration of the resistance in a nervous 
current. Likewise the conception of ampere must be de- 
cidedly changed before it can be made to apply to the ele- 
ment of the nervous current that corresponds to the in- 
tellectual process. 

We may state the law that subsumes the relation be- 
tween intellect and feeling, in something like the follow- 
ing manner: (a) With a a given amount of nervous en- 



146 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

ergy, the greater the feeling, the less the amount of in- 
tellectual work that will be done, (b) With a given 
amount of nervous energy, the less the feeling, the greater 
the amount of intellectual work that may be done. 

In the above statement of the first law of feeling, we 
have assumed that the amount of nervous energy remains 
the same throughout. The resistance then, depends upon 
the condition of the nervous conductor in which it is en- 
countered. But there are two variables in the measure- 
ment of resistance, and they vary independently of each 
other, which makes the calculation of their resultant 
difficult. The other variable factor is the amount of ner- 
vous energy, and this necessitates the statement of a law 
especially applicable to it. The second law of the relation 
between feeling and intellect may be stated as follows: 
With a given nervous arc, the amount of feeling and of in- 
tellectual work will vary with the amount of nervous 
energy. With a given nervous arc, the greater the amount 
of feeling, the more intellectual work will be accom- 
plished; and with a given nervous arc, the less feeling, 
the less intellectual work that may be done. 

Here it seems as if we had two laws that are contra- 
dictory to each other, and this is the explanation of the 
contradictory interpretations and theories of feeling that 
have been entertained. The amount of feeling that is 
experienced, and the relation between the amount of feel- 
ing and the intellectual work that may be accomplished 
at any time is the resultant of these two contradictory 
laws. However, the two laws, when properly understood 
will be seen to be statements of the same law: to wit, 
The relation of feeling to intellect varies directly as the 
strength of the current and inversely as the resisting 
power of the nervous arc. 

There is also a third variable, mentioned in chapter 
IV that produces confusion in observation, and some- 
times conceals the effect of the general law. This variable 



THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT 147 

is attention, which will be considered in a subsequent 
chapter, and it is possible that an explanation of some 
of the phenomena growing out of the relation between 
feeling and intellect will have to be deferred until that 
discussion is reached. 

Let us look at some of the illustrations of the first law 
of the relation in which the nature of the conducting arc 
is considered the variable. We find that it is impossible 
to do very much intellectual work of any kind when we 
are experiencing much feeling. A toothache is never con- 
ducive to study, nor is the time just before dinner the 
best hour in the day for attacking difficult lessons. A 
cold room or an exceedingly hot day are neither of them 
satisfactory conditions for the best work of students. 
Anything that causes us to experience considerable feel- 
ing is far from being helpful to study. 

Quite as serious as physical pain is the existence of a 
series of circumstances that induce mental unpleasant- 
ness. An angry man cannot tell whether he is eating 
boiled cabbage or stewed umbrellas. The serious illness 
or death of a beloved relative or friend is totally destruct- 
ive to our ability to study, or to do much intellectual 
work of any kind. 

Misfortune in any direction, in business, financial af- 
fairs, family relations, the disappointment of our ambi- 
tions — any and all of these things are sufficient to dis- 
tract us, which means that we are thereby rendered in- 
capable of exhibiting our usual intellectual acumen, seeing 
what is best to do, judging wisely, acting up to our best 
lights. 

"A man who pleads his own case in court of law has a 
fool for a client." This saying is a blunt recognition of 
the fact that a man who is in such difficulty as to have 
a case in court is not capable of judging what is best to 
be done, and that a lawyer who feels the situation much 
less keenly is cheap at half the money. That a physician 



148 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

will not treat the members of his own family, but calls 
in some other physician when one of them is sick, does 
not imply that he lacks faith in the efficacy of his own 
medicine, but that he is unable to exercise his best judg- 
ment concerning the course of treatment. A man is never 
the best judge of his own case and that merely because 
he experiences too much feeling. He may be a good ad- 
viser for some one else, but he is likely, if he experiences 
much feeling, to make serious errors in deciding what is 
best for him to do. This is in keeping with the statement 
that we are often very much influenced by our feelings. 
We fail to do what is best because the feelings that we 
experience obscure our vision, and the proper thing for 
us to do does not stand out in the clearness that is neces- 
sary for it to eventuate in proper action. 

It is a recognition of the reciprocal relation between 
feeling and intellect that lies at the basis of the demand 
that a judge shall not be an interested party in any case 
that comes up for trial in his court. It is no reflection 
upon his honesty that makes it necessary for him to re- 
sign his place, but a practical recogDition of a psycho- 
logical fact. 

Less influential, but still serious, is the pleasant feel- 
ing that we experience. Sometimes we are too much en- 
raptured to make the best intellectual judgment. The re- 
ceipt of good news, such as might be the fact that we had 
suddenly fallen heir to a million dollars, or our appoint- 
ment to a much desired or lucrative position, or an invi- 
tation to take a longed for journey — any of these things 
that engender pleasant feelings of a rather high degree of 
intensity, is destructive for a time of our ability to apply 
our intellectual energies to the learning of lessons or the 
solving of problems. Even the curiosity manifested in 
taking up a new subject of study is likely to interfere 
with its mastery until the feeling of newness, curiosity, 
and wonder has disappeared. Feeling, no matter whether 



THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT 149 

it is pleasant or unpleasant, is detrimental to the work 
that it is possible for us to do. 

It is true that pleasant feelings are less destructive to 
the intellectual work than are painful feelings, or perhaps 
it would be better to put it the other way and say that 
painful feelings are more detrimental to intellectual work 
than are pleasurable feelings. The reason for this will 
appear in our explanation of the difference between pain- 
ful and pleasurable feelings. As a general rule, painful 
feelings are the concomitants of resistances of a greater 
degree of intensity than are pleasurable. An increase of 
intensity up to a certain point increases the pleasurable 
feeling, beyond which point the feeling comes to have a 
painful tone. The painful feeling is the concomitant of a 
greater resistance, and tends to stop out a greater amount 
of the nervous energy, rendering a smaller portion of it 
available for doing intellectual work. The very best in- 
tellectual work will be done with the least fatigue, when 
there is no feeling accompanying the process. Any kind 
of feeling, pleasant or unpleasant, is detrimental to doing 
the greatest amount of work with a given amount of 
energy. Here we have another example of the law of 
habit. Only those activities that are done as the result 
of incessant practice are done as well as they may be. 
It is the inevitable psychological law that feeling detracts 
from the possibility of doing the best intellectual work. 

Habit not only decreases resistance, and diminishes 
feeling, but it increases the amount of work that can be 
done by the expenditure of a given amount of energy. We 
are inclined to put as our best illustrations of habit the 
doing of some muscular act. But mental habit is just 
as important and as readily observable as is muscular 
habit. The work of learning a column of the multiplica- 
tion table demands the expenditure of a considerable 
amount of energy, and is ordinarily accompanied by a 
feeling having a painful tone. But after a number of 



150 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

repetitions, the lessons can be repeated with the expendi- 
ture of much less energy, and with actual pleasure, or 
no feeling at all. 

The reciprocal relation between feeling and intellect 
may be well recognized in the processes of children. Chil- 
dren are tremendous generators of energy. The plasticity 
of their tissues, the rapidity of the changes that occur in 
them, the fact of growth which is itself dependent upon 
the metabolic changes of which the liberation of energy 
is one effect — all of these things indicate how great is 
the amount of nervous energy that little children gener- 
ate. Growth itself is an indication of the development of 
much nervous energy. Growth of any tissue would, if not 
stopped entirely, be at least very much retarded if the 
generation of nervous energy at any time were to be im- 
paired or diminished. If any organ in the body is de- 
prived of its supply of nervous energy, such as would 
result from the cutting of the nerve that leads to it, that 
organ would become paralyzed and soon atrophy. 

The tremendous activity of children manifested in play 
is indicative of the liberation and expenditure of a large 
amount of nervous energy. But children are capable of 
little intellectual work. One would suppose that with 
the amount of nervous energy available, little children 
would be able to do much, but its universality is such 
that the little capacity of children for intellectual work 
excites no comment. 

We have already recognized the fact that children are 
creatures of feeling, crying or laughing, rejoicing or sor- 
rowing, almost all the time. We know, too, that the 
brain cells and centers are relatively lacking in organiza- 
tion, and that the reaction time of children is slow. We 
must understand then, that much resistance is encoun- 
tered by a nervous impulse in passing through a nervous 
arc in children, and that a large expenditure of energy, 
lost in feeling, is necessary to overcome the resistance, 



THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT 151 

with the result that a relatively small amount of it gets 
through. We have, then, a sufficient explanation of the 
fact that little children are capable of doing little intel- 
lectual work. The resistance in this case is due largely 
to the character of the nervous arc, and this is the con- 
dition in which the reciprocal relation between intellect 
and feeling is shown. 

We found reason in our chapter on the Problem of 
Esthetics to believe that the esthetic feelings have, on the 
whole, been advantageous in increasing the amount of 
nervous energy available for doing work. But there are 
indications that not in all cases does a highly developed 
artistic and esthetic sense contribute anything whatever 
to the amount of intellectual work which a person is 
capable of doing. In fact, an examination of the work 
that is done by artists in any branch of esthetics will lead 
one to suspect that art is a deviation from the normal, 
and it may be so to such an extent as to seem almost 
pathological. Nordau has maintained that art is the 
slight beginning of a deviation from perfect health. Very 
few of the great artists have lived lives that were in all 
respects commendable, and their intellectual work has 
partaken of the erratic character and irresponsible nature 
that their social lives have manifested. We have in these 
two series of facts a situation that needs to be harmonized 
and brought under one law. 

The latter statement, that artists manifest a deviation 
from the ordinary and a deviation in the wrong direction, 
is better established than the other ; namely, that esthetic 
feelings have been advantageous to the development of the 
race. But we can see that the two series of observations 
are not irreconcilable nor necessarily opposed to each 
other. The artist who leads a life of feeling, and expends 
his nervous energy in overcoming resistance, it not likely 
to contribute very much to the intellectual life of the race. 
He may, as a result of his esthetic development, become 



152 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

able to generate a larger amount of nervous energy than 
he would otherwise do, but if he expends all of this sur- 
plus energy and a portion of that besides which would not 
be so expended if he were not an artist, he will have his 
intellectual output diminished as the result of his esthetic 
cultivation. The amount of nervous energy will be in- 
creased, but the amount used up and expended in over- 
coming resistance will be still further increased. Hence 
the net result of his intellectual work will show not an 
increase, but an actual decrease below the normal amount 
that might be expected from him. This explanation will 
satisfactorily account for the fact that while we ought to 
expect great artists to accomplish more intellectually 
than ordinary men, only a few of them do so. This will 
indicate the limitation that must be set also, upon the 
artistic cultivation of the individual, if the greatest in- 
tellectual development is to be attained. 

So far, all of our illustrations have been of the kind 
that show the reciprocal nature of intellect and feeling, 
but there are facts that would seem to indicate the con- 
tradictory relation. Why is it that some men, who are 
capable of intellectual work that is unquestionably great, 
are at the same time men of deep feeling? Abraham Lin- 
coln is a good example. So many instances of this kind 
may be cited that it is no wonder that many persons have 
been misled into the belief that instead of there being an 
antithesis between intellect and feeling, the two work 
with each other. The poet says : 

"It is the heart and not the brain 
That to the highest doth attain." 

The explanation of the discrepancy is easy, and both 
may be brought under one rule of the relation between 
feeling and intellect. We have but to recall that the re- 
sistance, as we are using the word, varies with two fac- 



THE RELATION OF FEELING TO INTELLECT 153 

tors, the nature of the nervous arc and the strength of 
the current. In all cases of men who are intellectually 
great, and still manifest much feeling, we have the gen- 
eration of a large amount of nervous energy. Such men 
are genuine steam engines for the generation of nervous 
energy, and their very appearance is frequently indicative 
of that fact. There is a wide difference in persons in the 
amount of nervous energy they are capable of generating. 
A person who generates twice the amount of energy that 
another does, is able to expend a large amount of it in 
feeling and still have an excess of energy over the first 
to employ in doing intellectual work. 

However, if any one of the men who might be cited as 
examples of deep feeling, and still intellectually great, 
had employed all his energy in intellectual work, letting 
none of it be destroyed in feeling, the intellectual output 
would greatly have exceeded that which was shown. It 
will be understood that our employment of the quantita- 
tive expression, referring to nervous energy, is altogether 
figurative, and not intended to be anything more than an 
illustration to make the meaning clear. 

Another series of examples like the last finds its expla- 
nation in the same condition. As students in school we 
are advised to manifest interest in our studies, and what- 
ever our work may be, we are assured that we shall do it 
better if we are interested. Interest, in the meaning given 
to it by the persons who furnish the advice, means a feel- 
ing of a pleasant tone. The command, then, is to expe- 
rience more feeling in our work if we wish to do our work 
better. This advice, apparently so conformable to the 
facts observed, would seem to indicate that feeling and 
intellectual work vary together, and are not reciprocally 
related. 

One group of educational philosophers regards interest 
as the most fundamental condition of successful educa- 
tion. No school exercise in which children are not in- 



154 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

terested can have any educational value for them. Hence 
it comes about that the cultivation of interest, the expe- 
riencing of a pleasant feeling, is the sine qua non of 
education. The errand boy is subject to reproof because 
he fails to experience interest in his work. 

When we experience interest in our work, we expend 
energy in overcoming resistance. But if the resistance 
arise from the larger amount of energy generated, we may 
still have a very considerable surplus to employ in doing 
intellectual work. If the pleasurable feelings were to 
arise from any other circumstance than the increase in 
the amount of energy, the result would not be advantage- 
ous, but rather the reverse. The command to be inter- 
ested in our work, then, is really a command to "Go thou, 
and generate more nervous energy." 

This condition of interest is advantageous only so long 
as the resulting tone of feeling is a pleasurable one. If 
it is a painful tone, such as may be the case when over- 
stimulation results in worry, the result is disastrous. 
But the larger amount of nervous energy generated and 
transmitted through the nervous arc, actually results in 
the more rapid modification of the nervous conductor 
and the more rapid growth of the cells, neurons, dendritic 
branches, and association fibers. Hence the most favor- 
able condition for educative processes is that in which 
there is generated a large amount of nervous energy, so 
large that its transmission involves that degree of resist- 
ance indicated by a pleasant feeling, and accompanied 
by positive attention, whose effect is to transmit the im- 
pulse with the least resistance. By a process of positive 
attention it is possible to send a large amount of nervous 
energy through a brain center with a force only great 
enough to overcome the resistance. It is this attention 
factor that the "Interest" people usually omit, or fail to 
take into proper consideration. 

Thus it will be seen that the doctrine of interest is not 



THE RELATION OP FEELING TO INTELLECT 155 

at all contradictory to the determination of feeling as the 
concomitant of resistance, but that, when properly un- 
derstood, it furnishes an excellent corroboration of it. 
We can tell when we have generated more energy by the 
increased feeling that we experience, and the increase in 
energy may also be proved to exist by the greater quan- 
tity of blood that is sent to the brain and the greater 
amount of tissue oxidized. 

When we say that we have a sufficient explanation of 
the fact, it is necessary to avoid the implication that we 
have explained and understand how it is that a nervous 
impulse in passing through a nervous arc is a constant 
accompaniment of an intellectual process, nor have we 
explained why it is that resistance to transmission is a 
constant accompaniment of feeling. But it is meant 
that we have associated the intellectual and the af- 
fective processes, which we do not understand, with a 
physiological process and the nervous state which accom- 
panies it. The remark of H. Newell Martin is very much 
to the point here : "We do not know at all how an electric 
current sent around a bar of soft iron makes it magnetic. 
We only know that the one change is accompanied by 
the other. But we say that we have explained the magnet- 
ism of the piece of iron if we have found an electric cur- 
rent circulating around it. Similarly we do not know 
how a nervous change causes a mental state, but we have 
not explained the mental state until we have found the 
nervous state associated with it, and how the nervous 
state was produced." (Human Body, p. 462.) 

Synopsis. 
1 — With a given amount of nervous energy, the greater 
the feeling, the less intellectual work will he accom- 
plished; and with a given amount of nervous energy, the 
less the feeling, the more intellectual work will ~be accom- 
plished. 



156 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

2 — With a given nervous arc, the greater the feeling 
experienced, the more intellectual work will he done; 
and with a given nervous arc, the less the feeling, the less 
intellectual work will be accomplished. 

3 — Attention presents a third condition that may 
modify either feeling or intellectual work. 

If — Interest in our work is advantageous, if by interest 
we mean a pleasant feeling, and if it is the concomitant 
of increased resistance arising from the liberation of a 
greater amount of nervous energy. 

5 — Habit by decreasing resistance and its concomitant 
feeling enables a greater amount of intellectual work to 
be done with the expenditure of a given amount of ner- 
vous energy. 

6 — Children experience much feeling as a consequence 
of liberating much nervous energy which is directed 
through poorly organized brain centers. There is much 
resistance from a summation of both conditions. 



Chapter X. 
THE KELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The entire matter of consciousness is in a more confused 
and disordered state than that of almost any other division 
of psychology. The confusion arises largely from the use 
of the word consciousness in two distinct senses, with a 
strong tendency to adopt the one that is least to be com- 
mended. The first use of the word means a knowledge of 
our own mental states and processes that are in progress 
at any one time; or we may mean by it the process by 
which our mental states become known ; or the property of 
a mental process by which it becomes known to us. Any 
of these descriptions is indicated by the word awareness 
to discriminate it from another use of the term. 

This is the common meaning for the word. When we 
speak of losing consciousness, we mean that we cease to 
be aware of the mental processes that are going on. We 
are unconscious when we are asleep, and when we awaken 
we become conscious. Chloroform brings on a condition 
of unconsciousness, and equally effective in producing the 
same result is a blow on the head. Unconsciousness may 
be produced in many ways, and the difference between con- 
sciousness and unconsciousness is always the same. 

But another meaning for the word consciousness has 
come into very general use among psychologists, and by 
it is meant any kind of a mental process that may be ex- 
perienced. It is used as a synonym for mind, and psy- 
chology is often defined as the science of consciousness. 
Any mental process is a state of consciousness, and when 
consciousness is wanting there can be no mental process 
of any kind. 

157 



158 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

A critical examination will show that the meaning of 
awareness is the primary use of the word and the second 
meaning is derived from the first by a figure of speech. 
When we say that every mental process is a state of con- 
sciousness, we are compelled to employ the word with the 
first meaning. The argument used to justify this use of 
the word is that there can be no mental process without 
awareness, or of which we are unconscious, or without 
consciousness. From this arbitrary assumption psychology 
is defined as the science of consciousness. 

It would be equally possible to show that every mental 
process is accompanied by feeling and, therefore, every 
mental process is a state of feeling, and psychology may be 
defined as the science of feeling. Or it might be shown 
that every mental process is accompanied by muscular 
movement, therefore, every mental process is a muscular 
movement ("All consciousness is motor") and psychology 
may be defined as a state of movement or behavior. Or it 
might be shown that every mental process is accompanied 
by attention, therefore, every mental process is a state of 
attention, and psychology may be defined as the science of 
attention ; or, that every mental process involves an act of 
will, therefore, every mental process is a state of will, and 
psychology might be defined as the science of will. Any 
one of these statements has the same kind of justification 
or lack of justification, as has the definition of a mental 
process as a state of consciousness. 

The second use of the word grows out of the arbitrary 
doctrine that no unconscious process can be mental, and 
such unconscious state does not constitute a proper sub- 
ject for discussion in psychology. Those who employ the 
second meaning of the word assert that there is no differ- 
ence between a sensation and the consciousness of a sensa- 
tion, and that an unconscious mental process is a contra- 
diction in terms. What should be stated by those psychol- 
ogists who assert that every mental process is a state of 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 159 

consciousness is that every mental process is accompanied 
by consciousness, or that every mental process is a con- 
scious state. Instead, for example of denning memory as 
a state of consciousness, having specified characteristics, 
these writers should say that memory is a mental process 
having the specified characteristics and accompanied by 
consciousness. This is what is really intended, and the 
usual form of defining a mental process as a state of con- 
sciousness substitutes the differentia for the genus. 

This employment of the word consciousness with the 
second meaning is attributed to Descartes, who argued 
vigorously for the identity between a sensation and the 
consciousness of a sensation. His argument was designed 
to furnish a means of discriminating the mental processes 
of man from that of other animals, and he used it as a 
postulate in his argument that animals are automata. 

Locke defined consciousness as the perception of that 
which passes in our own minds, (Bk. I, Ch. 1) but he also 
insists that there can be no mental process without con- 
sciousness. He uses such expressions as " — hard to con- 
ceive that anything should think and not be conscious of 
it." — "For to be happy or miserable without being con- 
scious of it seems to me utterly inconsistent and impos- 
sible." (Bk. II, Ch. 1, Sec. 11.) 

Hamilton is generally credited with using the word in 
the first sense, for he defines consciousness as "The recog- 
nition by the thinking subject of his own acts and affec- 
tions." But he also sees no inconsistency in saying that 
"A feeling of which we are not conscious is no feeling at 
all" (Metaphysics, p. 125). But a tabulation of all the 
expressions involving the employment of the word con- 
sciousness shows that Hamilton habitually uses the word 
in two senses. 

Notwithstanding the fact that no one has yet been able 
to use the word in the Cartesian sense without involving 
himself in contradiction, and that in defining a mental 



160 



THE FEELINGS OP MAN 



process as a state of consciousness one necessarily employs 
a petitio principii, the influence of Wundt and Ziehen has 
been sufficient in this country to make this use of the word 
the common one, even among physiological psychologists. 
Ziehen is particularly emphatic. He says : "Let us repeat 
it — psychical and conscious, are for us, at least at the be- 
ginning of our investigations, identical" (Physiological 
Psychology , p. 5). And again: "From the outstart, the 
conception unconscious psychical process is an empty 
conception" (p. 5). "Consciousness is merely an abstrac- 
tion. The association of ideas with its accompanying 
sensations and images is consciousness" (p. 29). Even 
Hoffding says : "The strictly psychological standpoint is 
confined to the phenomena of conscious life. We know 
directly just so much of the mental life as we know of the 
phenomena of consciousness" (Psychology, p. 23). But he 
does not hesitate to refer to the sensations and perceptions 
that are experienced unconsciously, and the elements of 
mental life that grow out of the unconscious. 

If we employ the word in this sense, we must assert that 
the producing of Kubla Khan was not a mental process; 
that the phenomena of dreams do not belong to the psychic 
life; that the thousand and one adjustments, sensations, 
judgments, and decisions that constitute the larger part 
of our daily life cannot be considered in psychology, and 
that the more skillful we become in doing any kind of intel- 
lectual work, the farther it is removed from a psychic 
process. To these propositions it is difficult to assent. 

The inadvisability of making consciousness the general 
form of psychic life that is differentiated into several kinds 
of processes has been recognized by many persons. Spen- 
cer says : "The error has been in confounding two quite 
different things, having a sensation and being conscious of 
having a sensation" (Psychology, Vol. II, p. 372). Karl 
Pearson says : "I can receive a sense impression without 
recognizing it, for a sense impression does not involve 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 161 



( Grammar of Science, p. 43) . Binet says : 
"Consciousness accompanies the physiological processes 
of reasoning, sensation, recollection, etc. It does not 
constitute them. It is an epiphenomenon and nothing 
more'' (Psychology of Reasoning, p. 91). Haeckel states 
his opinion that: "The greatest and most fundamental 
error committed by modern physiology is the baseless 
dogma that all sensation must be accompanied by con- 
sciousness" ( Wonders of Life, p. 289) . And again, "Those 
familiar facts [speaking, walking, eating] prove of them- 
selves that consciousness is a complicated function of the 
brain, by no means inseparably connected with sensation 
and will" (p. 291). So also Saleeby says: "We have 
lately learned that consciousness and mind are by no 
means synonymous. Consciousness is to be regarded in- 
deed, as the effloresence of mind" (Evolution, The Master 
Key, p. 172). As holding the same view of consciousness 
we may mention Romanes, Fritz Muller, Schultze, 
Paulsen. 

The most vigorous and aggressive movement in psy- 
chology today is that which is represented by Freud and 
his disciples, and the entire Freudian system is based 
upon a principle which asserts that consciousness is not 
a necessary element in a mental process. In his Interpre- 
tation of Dreams, Freud says that "so long as psychology 
settled this question with the explanation that the psychic 
is the conscious, and that unconscious psychic occurrences 
are an obvious contradiction, a psychological estimate of 
the observations gained by a physician from abnormal 
states was precluded" (p. 485, Trans, by Brill). And 
again rather sarcastically he asserts that "The physician 
can but reject with a shrug of his shoulders the assertion 
that 'consciousness is an indispensable quality of the 
psychic.' He may assume, if his respect for the utterings 
of the philosophers still be strong enough, that he and 
they do not treat the same subject, and do not pursue the 



162 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

same science." "For a single intelligent observation of 
the psychic life of a neurotic, a single analysis of a dream, 
must force upon him the unalterable conviction that the 
most complicated and correct mental operations, to which 
no one will refuse the name psychic occurrences, may take 
place without exciting the consciousness of the person" 
(p. 485.) 

Even more emphatic is the statement that "we must 
also steer clear of the distinctions superconscious and sub- 
conscious, which have found so much favor in the more 
recent literature on the psychoneuroses, for just such a 
distinction seems to emphasize the equivalence of the 
psychic and the conscious" (p. 488.) 

It appears that the idea that mental action and con- 
sciousness are inseparable grew out of the desire of Des- 
carte to prove that man constituted a different order of 
beings from animals. As that notion was consistent with 
the ultra religious spirit of earlier psychologists, holding 
their peculiar views of the nature of mind, it was easy of 
adoption by them. Kecent physiological psychologists 
have accepted it without sufficient examination, perhaps 
in consequence of the difficulty of framing any hypothesis 
of a physiological nature by which the phenomena of con- 
sciousness could be presented in understandable terms. 

It is difficult to propose such an hypothesis. Feeling 
and the consciousness of a feeling are declared by Hamil- 
ton, Locke, Ziehen, and many other psychologists to be 
inseparable. But though the relation is such that the two 
vary together, it is possible to distinguish them by a 
process of abstraction, and to picture them in understand- 
able terms. While it is true that feeling and conscious- 
ness are inseparable in practice, and vary with each other, 
it is equally true that feeling and intellect are likewise 
inseparable. So are feeling and attention, feeling and will, 
and, in fact, none of the fundamental processes that we 
discriminate can appear alone. Yet, the one is not the 
other ; nor is the other, the one. 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 163 

Let us note in the first place, that consciousness is not 
necessary to a mental act. Consciousness is most intense 
when the mental processes are most imperfect and hesi- 
tant. When we are learning to skate, or play the piano, 
or whet a razor, we are intensely conscious of all the steps 
that must be taken in learning. But as we become 
familiar with the process, and acquire skill in doing it, 
the intensity of consciousness diminishes until when we 
have attained the highest degree of skill, consciousness 
seems almost completely to have disappeared. This is one 
of the fundamental data that we shall have to consider in 
expressing the relation between feeling and consciousness, 
and demonstrating a physiological hypothesis for it. 

Another fact that must be considered is that we can 
never be merely conscious. We must be conscious of some- 
thing. Consciousness can never exist alone. Conscious- 
ness is the accompaniment of an intellectual process, such 
as a perception, or the discovery of a relation, or a feeling 
which it must accompany. The consciousness may be in- 
tense or feeble, it may vary in its intensity without any 
corresponding variation in the intensity of the process 
which it accompanies. We shall expect, then, to find the 
physiological concomitant of consciousness some element 
of the nervous current, or of the transmission of a nervous 
impulse through a nervous arc whose concomitant is an 
intellectual act. 

A third fact that must accord with any theory that we 
may present, is that in nearly every experience of which 
we are conscious, there is a shadowy background of other 
facts, events, processes, less vivid than the one that we 
may consider in the focus, as representing the mental 
process for which consciousness is the accompaniment. 
This shadowy background is not necessarily present, and 
may be very much narrowed or altogether omitted, but its 
frequent presence materially assists us in suggesting a 
probable hypothesis for consciousness. These three facts 



164 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

will enable us to frame such an hypothesis when we con- 
sider them all together. 

I propose to use the word psychon to express the sum 
of all the psychological elements that taken together con- 
stitute the concomitant of the nervous current. Thus the 
intellectual process is one of the elements of the psychon ; 
feeling is another ; and consciousness is a third. A descrip- 
tion of its physiological concomitant will be the most suc- 
cessful means of discriminating feeling from conscious- 
ness, and exhibiting their relations to each other. The 
determination of the physiological concomitant of con- 
sciousness is already made for us, in part at least, by our 
hypothesis of feeling. 

We have described feeling as the concomitant of the 
resistance that a nervous impulse encounters in passing 
through a nervous arc. But we have recognized the fact 
that when a nervous impulse encounters resistance, it has 
a tendency to spread out into the surrounding cells. We 
have seen that this spreading out into the surrounding 
cells of the motor region and the glandular centers is the 
nervous correlate of the expression of feeling. 

But not all the impulse that radiates out of the brain 
center passes into the motor and glandular centers. Some 
of it passes into the fringing cells around the brain center 
that are neither motor nor glandular. When this is the 
case, that portion that so radiates does not produce motion 
nor glandular activity. If the radiating portion of the 
nervous impulse were to traverse these fringing cells as if 
they were other brain centers, each brain center so trav- 
ersed by the radiating impulse would give rise to an intel- 
lectual process, fainter than the original, as the radiating 
impulse is weaker than the main impulse. It is in some 
such supposition as this that we can picture the dim, faint, 
fringe of perceptions and other mental processes that ac- 
company the conscious act. This would be the physiolog- 
ical interpretation of the things that are in the fringe of 
consciousness. 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 165 

But this background of faint perceptions and indefinite 
mental processes is not necessary to a conscious act. We 
may be conscious of the mental process in the focus, with- 
out any of the fringing percepts. The nervous impulse 
may, and sometimes does, radiate out into the fringing 
cells without passing through them as a brain center, and 
completing their circuit. We may say that it radiates into 
the fringing cells without radiating through them. This 
will stand to us for the concomitant of consciousness. The 
radiation of the nervous impulse out of the brain center 
into the fringing cells that are neither motor nor glandu- 
lar, then, we may consider as an hypothesis for the nervous 
concomitant of consciousness. This will give us an inter- 
pretation of the process enabling us easily to understand 
and to express the relation that it holds to feeling. 

It is evident that the nervous impulse will not radiate 
out into the fringing cells unless some resistance is encoun- 
tered in the brain center. The resistance itself is the con- 
comitant of feeling, but the radiation which follows upon 
the resistance is the concomitant of consciousness. 

It follows, then, that if our interpretation of the physio- 
logical concomitant is correct, consciousness and feeling 
will vary together. Other things being the same, the 
greater the feeling, the more intense will be the conscious- 
ness. The less the feeling, the less intensity of conscious- 
ness. This result arises, not in consequence of any causal 
connection with each other, but because the two — con- 
sciousness and feeling — are both similarly related to the 
same circumstance, the resistance encountered. What- 
ever increases the resistance will at the same time increase 
both feeling and the intensity of consciousness. Whatever 
decreases the resistance, will by that very fact decrease 
both feeling and the intensity of consciousness. Feeling 
is not the cause of consciousness, nor is consciousness 
the cause of feeling, but both of them are related in the 
same way to the antecedent condition of resistance. 



166 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

This is a more satisfactory interpretation of the con- 
comitant of radiation than is that of Bain and Richer, who 
interpret radiation as the concomitant of feeling. Bain 
says {Mind and Body, p. 52) : "When an impression is 
accompanied by feeling, the aroused currents diffuse them- 
selves [radiate] freely over the brain, leading to a general 
agitation of the moving organs, as well as affecting the 
viscera." So Richet, (quoted by Hoffding, Psychology, p. 
223) says: 'Tain without memory and without radiation 
would be no pain at all." This seems to justify our asser- 
tion that Bain, Richet, and other psychologists recognize 
the fact of radiation out of the brain center, and would 
identify it with feeling. But it will be seen that to identify 
it with consciousness explains phenomena that the other 
identification will not do. 

One other remark ought to be made concerning the asso- 
ciation of consciousness with radiation. We have ex- 
plained the expression of feeling by the radiation of the 
nervous impulse out of the primary brain center into the 
motor and glandular centers, as a consequence of the re- 
sistance encountered. In the radiation out into the fring- 
ing cells that are neither motor nor glandular, we believe 
that we have the concomitant of consciousness. It ap- 
pears, then, that consciousness and the expression of feel- 
ing arise from the same cause, and are consequences of the 
same condition. The difference between the two is merely 
the radiation of the impulse into different kinds of cells 
and centers. Therefore, consciousness and expression of 
feeling may in a certain sense be considered homologues 
of each other, and both of them vary with each other and 
with feeling. If we choose to stretch a point, we may 
assert that consciousness is as truly an expression of feel- 
ing as is muscular movement itself. This is one way in 
which, if we choose to do so, we can read a meaning into 
the phrase, a favorite one with some writers, that all con- 
sciousness is motor. 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 167 

This interpretation of consciousness will enable us to 
understand two other phenomena which have before 
seemed incapable of explanation. The first is that con- 
sciousness is always involved in the process of learning a 
new thing, and the second is that consciousness is com- 
monly believed to be the process by which the human race 
adapts itself to new situations. 

The process of learning demands that the nervous im- 
pulse should find a passage through new and unaccus- 
tomed channels. If the path of a nervous impulse were 
immutably fixed, and there was no possibility of its flow- 
ing over into untraversed combinations of cells, no new 
process could ever occur and learning a new thing would 
be impossible. The condition which renders radiation and 
its concomitant consciousness possible is sometimes 
described as plasticity. It is upon this plastic quality 
that the learning process depends. 

The fact that a human being consciously adapts himself 
to new situations has been so difficult of explanation that 
it is not strange that consciousness has been described as 
a distinct entity, capable of making adjustments, and 
unexplainable on any physiological or mechanistic 
hypothesis. 

Adjustment to new conditions implies rapid changes in 
the nervous arcs through which the impulses flow. When 
impulses radiate, and consciousness is concomitantly ex- 
perienced, there is an opportunity for choice between large 
numbers of possible actions, and the selection of that 
which is most nearly accordant with the situation. If it 
were not for this radiation, which we have associated with 
consciousness, there would not be an opportunity for 
selecting the most appropriate course of action. Hence 
we see that radiation, consciousness, functional selection, 
plasticity, learning of new things and adaptation to new 
situations are correlative to each other, and depend upon 
the same neuronic condition. While it is commonly be- 



168 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

lieved that consciousness makes adjustments, in reality 
consciousness follows as only one of the results of the 
plastic condition which enables radiation to occur. 

Many elaborate experiments have been made to show 
that every mental process is accompanied by some muscu- 
lar movement. It has been conclusively demonstrated that 
many mental processes are so accompanied, and the gen- 
eral conclusion that all are similarly accompanied is 
reached deductively. 

But another conclusion is deduced from the last, and 
that is that the muscular movement is a necessary condi- 
tion of the mental process, or state of consciousness, in- 
stead of being an inevitable accompaniment. This conclu- 
sion is not justified by the premises, for it can be shown 
that another explanation is possible. 

The only mental processes in which the demonstration 
of the muscular accompaniment has been attempted are 
those that are the accompaniments of rather strong ner- 
vous impulses. But such impulses, strong enough to be 
accompanied by consciousness and feeling, are very likely 
to overflow into the motor centers and give rise to an 
accompanying movement. So we have movement, feeling, 
and consciousness attending the intellectual process, but 
neither of them is a necessary condition. We have in this 
fact the explanation of the phenomena that is expressed by 
the phrase: "All consciousness is motor," as well as an 
explanation of the phenomena from which is derived the 
statement that every mental process is a state of conscious- 
ness. 

Consciousness and feeling vary together, and it is a 
recognition of this fact that has led many psychologists to 
identify the two, and to assert that feeling and conscious- 
ness are identical. It is perhaps a consideration of this 
fact — for it is a fact — that is at the bottom of the propo- 
sition that feeling and the consciousness of the feeling are 
inseparable, and then follows the assertion that they are 



RELATION OF PEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 169 

identical. It seems that in our physiological hypothesis 
we have a means of discriminating the two, and explain- 
ing the source of the errors into which psychologists have 
been led. 

We have already observed more than once, that feeling 
tends to disappear from an habitual act. Consciousness 
also tends to disappear from an habitual act. Habit de- 
creases directly the resistance that a nervous impulse 
encounters in a nervous arc, and by that decrease tends to 
diminish at the same time, consciousness and feeling. The 
things that we do as the result of habit, or a great deal of 
practice, come to be done so skillfully that we say we do 
not need to think about them, and we do them uncon- 
sciously. In fact, when a thing is done with the highest 
degree of skill, we find that an effort of attention which 
renders them conscious, diminishes the skill and accuracy 
with which they are performed. The writer has often at- 
tempted to discover if he could become conscious of the 
pressure and movement of the thumb that turns a razor 
over when it is stropped, but not a single indication of any 
feeling or consciousness of the movement of the muscles 
is observable. Practice every day for years in stropping 
the razor has resulted in the complete disappearance of 
consciousness from the muscular contraction involved in 
the process. Nevertheless, this is a truly voluntary act 
which, as the result of habit has lost all resistance in the 
brain center, has dropped out consciousness, and all feel- 
ing has disappeared. At first, in the process of learning, 
the consciousness was intense and the feeling was painful. 

This phenomenon of the loss of consciousness from a 
muscular movement as the result of practice is frequently 
explained by saying that the act ceases to be a voluntary 
act, becomes a secondary reflex, the nervous concomitant 
is relegated to the lower nerve centers ; and that the ner- 
vous impulse which accompanies such an act does not 
pass through any cerebral center. There is no direct 



170 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

evidence that the nervous impulse accompanying such an 
action does not pass through the same cerebral center that 
it did in the process of learning, and the hypothesis does 
not explain the facts very well. 

Not only is consciousness not essential to a mental 
process, but it is really detrimental to an action. The 
highest degree of skill has not yet been attained when we 
have to think how the action should be performed. Con- 
sciousDess bears about the same relation to the other 
elements of the psychon that the noise which a wagon 
makes in moving bears to the effective movement of the 
wagon. The old conundrum : "What is it that is no part 
of a wagon and yet that the wagon cannot go without'' is 
directly illustrative of the point here. The wagon that 
makes the greatest noise is not the one that is the most 
effective wagon for the purposes for which a wagon is 
employed, nor is it in the most satisfactory condition for 
use. The wagon that makes the least noise, other things 
being the same, is in better condition for work. There is 
less energy lost in overcoming the resistance. It is true 
that we may tell something about the rate of speed of the 
wagon by listening to the noise that it makes in moving. 
We may even order the driver to make his wagon rattle 
more than it does, compliance with which direction may 
necessitate a more rapid movement of the wagon, but the 
noise is not the cause of the more rapid movement, nor is 
it anything to be proud of if one is the owner. Our actions, 
mental and muscular, performed without consciousness 
and without feeling are better done, with the same amount 
of nervous energy, than if feeling and consciousness accom- 
panied them. Less resistance is to be overcome, and more 
energy is available for doing the work. Hence it is that 
without consciousness and without feeling, the same 
amount of nervous energy will do more work. 

Consciousness varies in intensity as truly as does feel- 
ing. Sometimes we are intensely conscious, and again we 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 171 

are relatively unconscious. There are all variations of the 
intensity of consciousness to be observed. Sometimes we 
are half asleep and again we are half awake, and the dif- 
ference between the two states reduces itself to zero. Con- 
sciousness and unconsciousness are relative terms. We 
call sleep a condition of unconsciousness, but experiment 
shows that there are wide variations in the depth or in- 
tensity of sleep. The line between sleeping and waking is 
not a sharp and definite one, and yet, typical conditions of 
the two states are easily discriminated. 

Sleep is a condition in which consciousness is relatively 
feeble and of low intensity. The unconsciousness of sleep 
results from the lack of resistance arising from the libera- 
tion of a smaller quantity of energy. Always in sleep less 
energy is generated. The brain is usually more or less 
anemic, a smaller quantity of blood is sent to the brain, 
the heart beats slower, less blood is sent out at each pulsa- 
tion, the skin receives more blood, secretion from the skin 
is increased. Also, less oxygen is carried to the brain, the 
breathing is slower, the respirations are less voluminous. 
Impure air makes us sleepy. So does a hot bath, deter- 
mining the blood to the skin and away from tne brain. 
Food taken into the stomach induces sleep by determining 
the blood to the stomach. We avoid the stimulation of the 
sense organs, shut our eyes, sleep in the dark, get away 
from the noise, desire to be neither too hot nor too cold, 
and obviate the irregularities in our couch. By the con- 
currence of a dozen circumstances we can be assured that 
in sleep less nervous energy is generated. 

As a result of the diminished amount of nervous energy, 
both feeling and consciousness are lessened. We forget 
our troubles in sleep, even physical pain does not annoy 
us if we can go to sleep and consciousness is so much 
diminished that we apply the term unconscious to our 
condition. We cannot go to sleep when we are experien- 
cing an emotion of great intensity. And, although from a 



172 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

dream we sometimes wake in terror, we do awake, when 
we experience as much feeling as is indicated, and the 
feeling is not nearly so strong as it appears to be. That 
this is true can be shown by the readiness with which it is 
forgotten, and the fact that our terror is not nearly so 
great as it would have been in the circumstances pictured 
in our dream, if we had been awake. 

We sometimes have what we call a vivid dream. In 
general, the dreams that we experience which are best 
remembered and the most vivid are those which occur when 
we are nearest to the waking point, when the largest 
amount of energy consistent with our sleeping condition is 
generated. Then we remember them best because they 
have happened most recently just before waking up, and 
hence are most easily recalled. But if a dream is not re- 
called, reinstated, and rehearsed, scarcely any dream is 
so vivid as to be remembered twenty-four hours. The 
vividness of a dream is purely relative, or merely an 
illusion. 

That this is true can be observed by recalling the bright- 
ness of a landscape that is seen. The phenomena of a vivid 
dream were noted, which included the sun shining upon a 
snow-covered landscape. Comparison of the brightness of 
the landscape seen in the dream, immediately after waken- 
ing, indicated that the brightness seen in the dream was 
about equivalent to that of a moonlit snow-covered land- 
scape seen in a waking condition. It is probable that this 
is a fair estimate of the relative intensity of the mental 
processes, especially feeling and consciousness, in sleep. 

That this is a true interpretation of consciousness is 
shown also by the action of narcotics, such as opium, not 
chloroform, in inducing sleep. Opium and morphine have 
the property of diminishing the amount of nervous tissue 
oxidized and the nervous energy generated. Hence the 
condition of sleep is induced as the nervous energy is 
diminished. Even before sleep occurs, there is a decrease 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 173 

in the feeling that is experienced, hence it is that we have 
the evidence of the concomitant of feeling in the concur- 
rence of diminution of feeling and the coming on of sleep 
as the result of a dose of opium. Alcohol has something 
of the same effect. The man who goes out to "drown his 
sorrows in drink," does so by diminishing the amount of 
nervous energy that he is capable of generating. We can 
scarcely wish for a better corroboration of the concomi- 
tance of feeling, consciousness, and resistance than the 
example of the effect of Darcotics. 

The mental processes occurring in sleep are identical 
with those in a waking condition, after we have made 
allowance for their diminished intensity and have realized 
that attention is wanting. The lack of attention from all 
dream processes is sufficient to account for the fantastic 
nature of dreams. 

Some such hypothesis as is here proposed will obviate 
the necessity of introducing into psychology such a con- 
ception as a subconscious, unconscious, subliminal or sub- 
jective self to explain important phenomena, which the 
definition of every mental process as a state of conscious- 
ness has rendered necessary. As soon as we have limited 
psychology to conscious experience we are compelled to 
invent some kind of an explanation for the unconscious 
processes upon which the conscious life is conditioned. 
We immediately involve ourselves in a maze of mytho- 
logical assumptions which are incapable of demonstration 
or disproof, which become more complex with each de- 
mand, and which open the gates to all kinds of charlatanry. 

Since feeling and consciousness vary together, it is not 
strange that one may be mistaken for the other, or that 
they have been considered as identical. But it is possible 
to separate the two processes by abstraction and to picture 
them as the concomitants of different elements of a cur- 
rent. But we may have occasion to inquire whether or not 
it is possible to experience one without the other. Is it 



174 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

possible to be conscious and still experience no feeling? 
Or is it possible to experience feeling without being con- 
scious? The relations are so delicate and so difficult to 
understand and to interpret that we shall have difficulty 
in making the phenomena that are significant appear to 
be so. However, the phenomena come within the experi- 
ence of every one. 

Does a person who is unconscious experience any feel- 
ing? It is scarcely adequate to limit the feeling to one 
having a painful tone. As we have seen, a painful tone of 
feeling implies a resistance that is very great. But there 
must be a certain amount of resistance in order that there 
shall be any degree of feeling, whether it be one having a 
pleasurable tone or a painful or monotonous tone. Pain 
and pleasure are merely qualities of feeling, and there 
may be a feeling experienced, even when there is neither a 
painful nor a pleasurable tone belonging to it. 

Next, if the nervous impulse can be kept from radiating 
out of the brain center, we may still have the resistance 
in the brain center itself, and this is the concomitant of 
feeling. In order to experience feeling without conscious- 
ness we need to prevent radiation without destroying the 
resistance. This is a condition that may be brought about 
in two ways : first, by the action of drugs, such as chloro- 
form, and second, by a process of attention. 

The action of chloroform can best be understood by mak- 
ing an assumption, which all observations bearing upon 
the point will corroborate, that the effect of chloroform is 
to cause a contraction and shrinking of the dendrites, as 
it causes the withdrawal of the pseudopodia when a rhizo- 
pod is treated with it. This would prevent the radiation 
of the impulse out of the brain center. At the same time 
it probably causes the withdrawal of the terminal arboriza- 
tions of the cells that constitute the center from each other, 
so that the resistance is increased. But the radiating 
effect is diminished more than the resisting effect is in- 



RELATION OF FEELING TO CONSCIOUSNESS 175 

creased, and the net result is a loss of radiation and con- 
sciousness without a complete destruction of resistance in 
the brain center. 

This phenomenon is complicated by a change in gen- 
erating power, which, however, seems to be not so great as 
in case of morphine. Here we are in position to under- 
stand what seems at least a very probable hypothesis, that 
under the influence of chloroform a very considerable feel- 
ing is experienced, of which we are unconscious. Certainly 
the phenomena of chloroform narcosis are very different 
from those of morphine sleep. There is at first a wild dis- 
turbance of the sensory images, a dancing of colors before 
the eyes, unlike that which occurs in going to sleep. The 
movements of a person under the influence of chloroform, 
although probably much less than they would be without 
the checking effect on radiation, are evidence corroborating 
the hypothesis. It seems pretty definitely established that 
feeling of which we are unconscious may be experienced 
under the influence of chloroform. 

Attention diminishes, or may diminish both feeling and 
consciousness. The mechanism must be explained in a 
later chapter, but when attention is positive, either feeling 
or consciousness may disappear. A person who has an 
arm shot off may in the rapt attention which we call the 
excitement of the moment, fail to know that he has been 
wounded. But the resistance has been or may be experi- 
enced, and the feeling may, not necessarily must, be very 
great while the consciousness is lacking. 

It is the same question of experiencing a sensation with- 
out being conscious of the sensation. The difference, how- 
ever, is that consciousness does not vary directly with the 
intensity of the sensation, but inversely with it. While in 
feeling, varying directly as the two do, and arising out of 
the same condition, the separation is difficult to see. 

There can be no doubt that we do experience sensations 
without any consciousness of them. We step over an 



176 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

obstruction in the path, and are unable after we have 
stepped over it, to remember that there was any obstruc- 
tion there. The fact that we stepped over it implies, posi- 
tively, that we perceived it. The fact that we are unable 
to state as soon as the action is completed that there was 
an obstruction implies that there was no consciousness of 
the experience. 

In case of feeling, the separation is less easy to see. It 
appears, however, that we have abundant grounds for be- 
lieving that we may experience a feeling without any con- 
sciousness of that feeling. In fact, nearly all feelings that 
are monotonous rather than indifferent, neither painful 
nor pleasurable, accompanying resistances that are below 
the limit even of a pleasurable tone, are usually uncon- 
scious. It appears that in order to experience even the 
least degree of consciousness, there must be a slightly 
higher degree of resistance. This is largely theory, the 
proof of which will from the very nature of the case be 
difficult to get, but all observations bearing upon the mat- 
ter would seem to imply that this hypothesis is probable. 

All feeling in sleep may be said to occur without con- 
sciousness, but consciousness is so completely a relative 
term that we are scarcely justified in using the term un- 
conscious to describe all sleeping conditions. If we permit 
ourselves to do so, we shall say that all feelings experi- 
enced in sleep are unconscious. 

When we reverse the question, is it possible to experi- 
ence consciousness without any feeling, it is probable 
that we cannot. The feeling may not be attended by a 
painful tone, nor by a pleasurable tone, but pain and 
pleasure are not necessarily inherent in the definition of 
feeling. But if there is a sufficient amount of resistance 
to be the concomitant of consciousness, the probability is 
that the resistance is sufficiently great to accompany some 
feeling. 



relation of feeling to consciousness 177 

Synopsis. 

1 — The word consciousness is used in two senses: first, 
the awareness of our own mental states and actions; sec- 
ond, as a synonym for mind, to mean any form of mental 
process. It is the first meaning that is adopted in this 
book. 

2 — Consciousness is not a necessary concomitant of 
every mental process, and many mental processes are un- 
attended by it. 

3 — Consciousness is the psychological concomitant of 
the radiation of a nervous impulse out of the brain center 
into the fringing cells that are neither motor nor glandu- 
lar. The radiation depends upon the resistance encoun- 
tered. 

4 — Feeling and consciousness vary with each other, al- 
though the relation is not a causal one. Both are simi- 
larly related to the resistance encountered in the brain 
center. 

5 — Consciousness is correlative to motor expression, and 
might even be regarded as itself an expression of feeling. 

6 — It is possible to experience feeling without conscious- 
ness, but we are scarcely likely to be conscious without 
experiencing feeling. 



Chapter XI. 
THE RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY. 

It is a matter of common observation that we remember 
best those things that we have learned with much feeling. 
If we are interested in any subject of study, we learn it 
better and remember it longer. Interest, as the word is 
generally employed, is understood to mean a pleasurable 
feeling, but a thing that is learned with a painful feeling 
is even more readily remembered and recalled more vividly. 
The story is told that in Ancient Greece, when it was de- 
sired to establish and record the boundary between the 
territory of two cities, a good, lusty boy was taken to the 
place whose location it was desired to mark, and there he 
was given a terrible beating. This rendered him a living 
record of the location, for it was believed that he would 
not readily forget the place of his agony. 

So numerous and so easily observed are the illustrations 
of the greater readiness of remembering the things that 
we learn with feeling, that we must recognize the close 
relation between the two processes. And there have not 
been wanting psychologists who assert that feeling is nec- 
essary to memory, even if not identical with it. It shall 
be our purpose to set forth as clearly as possible, what 
appears to be the actual relation between the two. 

It may be said in the first place that nothing is remem- 
bered that is not learned with some degree of feeling. We 
may explain this by tracing out the process by which a 
thing that is remembered is learned. In order to remem- 
ber anything it must be reproduced and recognized as 
having been experienced before. There are, therefore, two 
elements in memory — mental reproduction and mental 

179 



180 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

recognition. The mental process must be reinstated with 
the same conscious elements. If the mental process is to 
be reinstated, it seems quite evident that the physiological 
concomitant must also be reproduced. The nervous im- 
pulse that was involved in the original experience must be 
repeated. A nervous impulse must pass through the same 
combination of cells that was traversed in the original 
experience. This is the concomitant of mental reproduc- 
tion. 

The nervous impulse in the remembering must pass 
through the same combination of cells. There can be but 
little doubt of the accuracy of this statement, although 
some psychologists have sought to call it into question, 
assuming that a different combination is traversed by an 
impulse when we experience an idea of a thing from that 
which is traversed when we experience a percept of the 
same thing. The association areas are called in to explain 
this difference. Such a device would seem to be an un- 
necessary multiplication of machinery and but little confi- 
dence can be placed in the validity of such an assumption. 

The statement of Bain is worthy of credence here, that 
"It must be considered as almost beyond a doubt that the 
renewed feeling (reinstated process) occupies the same 
parts and in the same manner as the original feeling, and 
no other part and in no other manner that can be assigned" 
{Mind and Body, p. 89). Pillsbury says that "The treat- 
ment of centrally aroused ideas is rendered easier by the 
present-day assumption that memory images and the orig- 
inal sensations are of precisely the same character" (At- 
tention, p. 95). To insist that when anything is remem- 
bered, the nervous impulse must pass through some other 
combination of cells, is to repeat the error of the phrenolo- 
gists that there is a memory center ; or to do what is worse, 
to assume that there is some kind of a room in the brain 
where the ideas are laid away in cold storage. Still worse 
is it to make the assertion, that some psychologists have 



RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY 181 

not hesitated to make, that ideas are packed away in cells. 

One element, then, in memory is the mental reproduc- 
tion, which has for its concomitant the transmission of a 
nervous impulse through the same combination of cells 
that it went through before. Psysiologically, then, men- 
tal reproduction is the concomitant of the reinstatement 
of a nervous impulse in the same brain center. There is, 
however a difference between a remembered experience and 
the original experience. The original experience is stronger 
and more vivid than is the remembered experience, and 
this difference is usually associated with the peripherally 
initiated impulses which nearly always accompany in some 
manner the original experience. The peripherally initi- 
ated impulse is stronger, more intense, and the accom- 
panying psychological experience is more vivid. The re- 
membered experience is usually accompanied only by cen- 
trally initiated impulses which are comparatively feeble. 
Hence arises the difference in vividness between the re- 
membered experience and the original one. Faint and vivid 
are two terms used by Spencer to discriminate the original 
from the remembered experience. 

This distinction furnishes an explanation for two series 
of phenomena that properly belong to this discussion. The 
first is, that the remembered experience is accompanied by 
very much less feeling than is the original vivid one. So 
pronounced is this difference that psychologists generally 
assert that it is impossible to remember a feeling, in the 
proper sense of the word. "When we remember that there 
is almost no such thing as a memory for feelings them- 
selves, but only for the conceptions that accompany them, 
or are reinforced by them, we can see how the reminiscences 
of adults upon this point must be received with caution. 
(Hall, Adolescence, Vol. II, p. 38.) 

It is possible to remember that a feeling has been experi- 
enced when the original of the remembered process was in 
progress, but it is impossible to reinstate the feeling. While 



182 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

this is not strictly true, as everyone knows that it is pos- 
sible to reproduce the feeling by a process of remember- 
ing in a slight degree, it is true that the feeling attached 
to the reinstated experience is much feebler than that be- 
longing to the original. In a good many cases, the original 
experience was accompanied by a feeling having a painful 
tone, but the reproduction of the experience is altogether 
pleasant. This is merely a result of the same difference in 
resistance accompanying the original and the remembered 
experience, between the faint and the vivid. But the feel- 
ing even of the remembered experience, may be so vivid as 
to be painful, although the painful character will ulti- 
mately disappear as the result of habit. Everyone recalls 
with pleasure some of the incidents of his childhood, 
which, when they occurred, were anything but pleasant. 
Here we have the psychological explanation of the old say- 
ing that distance lends enchantment to the view. 

It is often very pleasant to contemplate past experience, 
and this would not be true if it were impossible to reinstate 
a feeling. The pleasure becomes less as the recollections 
are indulged in frequently, and never is it as vivid as the 
original. The taste of a dish of ice cream affords more 
pleasure than does the recollection of a dish that once was 
eaten. It is much less unpleasant to remember the dose of 
quinine that was taken, once upon a time, than it is to 
take another. Faint and vivid, peripherally initiated and 
centrally initiated, strong and weak, little resistance and 
much resistance, pleasurable and less pleasurable, is a 
series of circumstances functionally related to each other 
in the domain of the feelings. 

If the original experience be one that is accompanied by 
centrally initiated impulses only, as when we are reading 
books of travel, stories of incident and occurrences, or his- 
torical narrations and expositions, there is not likely to be 
the same difference in vividness between the feelings ac- 
companying the remembered and the original experience. 



RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY 183 

There is a difference, but the difference is not so great. 
Our most intense feelings, whether they be pleasurable or 
painful, are those accompanying mental processes that 
are attended by peripherally initiated impulses. 

This leads us to a discussion of the second series of phe- 
nomena ; that the processes that are best remembered are 
those in which a personal experience with the things them- 
selves is involved. If the original experience involves many 
sensations, and is accompanied by many peripherally ini- 
tiated impulses, the object or perception is likely to be 
best remembered. An examination of the structure of a 
grasshopper, or a machine, or piece of apparatus is much 
more likely to fix in mind the structure of the object ex- 
amined than is merely a description of the thing. Every 
teacher knows that a part of the value in laboratory work 
comes from the fact that the things seen are better remem- 
bered than the things read about. The impulses are 
stronger, the percepts clearer, the feelings more intense, 
and the experience is more easily reproduced. 

Many writers upon psychology speak of retentiveness as 
a property of memory. A man is said to have a retentive 
memory if he remembers well. The mind is said to retain 
its impressions, and this figure is similar to that one 
which speaks of the ideas or impressions being stored up 
in the brain. It may be well for us to examine this matter 
of retention, for it involves an hypothesis of the nature of 
the memory process that is far removed from anything 
that can be properly conceived. 

There is no doubt that every mental experience modifies 
every subsequent experience. The subsequent experience is 
something different from what it would be if the antecedent 
experience had not occurred. But this does not mean that 
a portion of the original experience is left in the mind. 
Every nervous impulse that traverses the brain center pro- 
duces a modification of the center and of the cells that 
compose it. But this modification is not properly de- 



184 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

scribed by saying that the cells retain a portion of the 
former experience. 

A pavement may be worn out by the feet that walk over 
it. Every time that I walk upon a sidewalk I produce 
some slight modification of the material of which the walk 
is composed, and remove a few particles of the matter of 
which it is made. But the sidewalk does not retain me nor 
any part of me. I have produced a modification in the 
walk, but that is not a part, or a trace of me that is re- 
tained and stored up. The walk has been modified, and 
may have become slightly better or worse to walk upon, 
but the few particles that have been removed cannot be 
called a trace that is retained. In the same manner, the 
modification of the brain center that has been produced 
by the transmission of an impulse through it cannot be 
called a trace of the experience. 

This is the answer to the old conundrum, that is still 
troubling a few psychologists : "Where is the idea when 
it is no longer in the mind?" "Where is the light when 
the candle is blown out?" The question involves a wholly 
pernicious notion of the idea, and a clear understanding of 
what its nature really is will assist much in solving many 
problems in psychology. No such clear conception of the 
nature of the idea can be obtained in any other way than 
by thinking of it in terms of a nervous impulse passing 
through a brain center. 

We may discard the term retention as an improper and 
misleading expression of the change that occurs in the 
brain center, which favors the memory process. We are 
brought face to face again with the problem that has con- 
fronted us so many times : "What is the law of habit, or 
what is its neural basis?" We are compelled to think of 
it as some modification of mental experience which has for 
its concomitant some change in the nervous arc through 
which an impulse is regularly transmitted. We shall seek 
an explanation of psychological habit in its neural con- 
comitant. 



RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY 185 

We have already suggested the possibility that the nerv- 
ous impulse consists of the transfer of atoms, molecules, 
corpuscles, or ions from one cell to another of the nervous 
arc. Let us think of it as consisting of the transfer of the 
atoms in the molecules of one cell to the molecules of an- 
other cell so changing the nature of the molecules that 
make them up. When an atom, or a large number of atoms, 
is jarred loose from its combination in the molecules of 
one cell, it flies to the molecule of an adjacent cell. There 
is a replacement of one quantity of atoms by another, and 
a necessity for the rearrangement of the atomic structure. 

We may conceive the atoms attaching themselves to one 
side of the molecule, while the atoms that are jarred loose 
by the impact escape from the opposite side. The atoms 
that constitute the nervous wave, or stream, will be pre- 
vented from flying off from the path of the conductor by 
the insulating material, although many may be lost in 
striking against the insulating walls. Thus the atoms 
that constitute the nervous stream will pass to the mole- 
cules in the path of the conductor. It is not necessary to 
suppose that every atom that is jarred loose, at least in 
the early currents in any conductor, reaches the next mole- 
cule or the molecules of the next cell. 

But if there is a regular stream of atoms, entering a 
molecule on one side, and corresponding atoms leaving it 
on the other, the molecules will ultimately become polar- 
ized. One pole will be the place of entrance and the other 
will be the place of exit of the atoms. This polarization 
will in all probability take the form of growth, so that we 
may think of the experienced molecules having a different 
shape, possibly elongated, which the inexperienced mole- 
cules do not have. This hypothesis concerning the change 
in the shape of molecules will explain the processes of 
growth in cells, and the elongation of the dendrites and 
axons. It is corroborated by the very limited evidence that 
an axon or a cell transmits impulses in one direction only. 



186 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

At any rate, it is easy for us to suppose that as a result 
of repeated impulses through a cell, and its constitutent 
molecules, the cells and molecules change their shape, and 
this change renders them a more efficient conductor of the 
impulse. The molecules escape from their combinations 
more readily, they attach themselves to the next with 
greater facility, a larger number of atoms are transferred, 
and a smaller number are lost in transmission by impact 
against the walls of the insulator, or other source of failure 
to find their places in the molecules. Change in shape and 
elongation of the cell or molecules enables us to under- 
stand the phenomena of improved conduction, and may be 
considered as a theory of the neurological basis of habit. 

Memory, then, resolves itseif into the concomitant of 
the neurological basis of habit. But the process which is 
so clearly manifested by the delicate psychic tests of the 
sensitiveness of nerve tissue is displayed in other tissues, 
except that the other tissues are not so sensitive, and do 
not respond so readily to the changes of growth. The tis- 
sues of plants change their shape by growth, which is 
modified by surrounding circumstances. Light, heat, 
moisture, gravitation, all have an effect in modifying the 
growth of plants and shaping their organs and tissues. 
Every experience of a plant with light, heat, and moisture 
modifies its growth, and the subsequent activities of the 
plant are determined in part by these modifications. Hence 
in a certain sense of the word we may say that a plant 
manifests the phenomena of memory, but this is an unfor- 
tunate expression, since confusion inevitably arises in con- 
sequence of using the same term to express two different 
things. Memory must be limited to a psychic experience, 
and must not include a physiological process. 

Let us now return to the original question from which 
we have diverged. Why do we remember best those things 
whose learning has been attended with feeling? Feeling 
is the concomitant of resistance. Great resistance may be 



RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY 187 

occasioned by great strength of impulse. The greater the 
nervous impulse, the larger the number of atoms that 
shift from one molecule to another, and the greater the 
amount of change in the shape of the cell and the mole- 
cules. Let us suppose that in one impulse, an average of 
ten atoms are exchanged between any two cells. One de- 
gree of resistance will be encountered, and a corresponding 
amount of feeling will be experienced, a similar amount of 
change in shape will be manifested, and a proportionate 
amount of growth will occur. Let us suppose that in an- 
other impulse, the number of atoms exchanged between 
any two molecules is 100. A greater degree of resistance 
will be encountered, let us suppose ten times the amount, 
ten times the amount of feeling will occur, the shape of 
the molecules will be changed ten times as much, ten times 
the amount of growth will be exhibited, the facility of 
transmission will be increased ten times as much by the 
larger impulse as by the smaller. Consequently the next 
impulse will pass through the same arc ten times as easily 
after the larger nervous impulse as after the smaller. 
Amount of current, number of atoms changed, degree of 
resistance, quantity of feeling, change in shape, rate of 
growth, facility of transmission, readiness of remember- 
ing — all of these seem to be functions, in the mathematical 
sense, of each other. Hence it is that what is learned with 
feeling is likely to be best remembered. 

Here we have the general law for remembering, and an 
explanation of all rules and processes that are recom- 
mended for becoming skillful in the process. Also we have 
an explanation why it is that it seems impossible for us to 
remember at certain times. Anything that prevents our 
generating and driving through the nervous arc as large 
an impulse as usual, detracts from our ability to remem- 
ber. We remember poorly when we are fatigued. The 
fatigue prevents the liberation of as much energy as is 
necessary, and it increases resistance to such an extent 



188 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

that less energy is driven through. We may experience 
much feeling in learning, even painful feeling, when we 
are fatigued, but the thing that is learned is not well re- 
membered. So when we are in poor health and feeling 
bad, we are in condition to liberate little energy, and we 
do not remember well. We do not remember well what 
we learn when we are sleepy, since sleepiness is a condi- 
tion in which little energy is generated. We remember best 
what we learn when giving the greatest amount of atten- 
tion to the subject, for attention is the process by which 
the largest possible amount of energy is directed into and 
through a brain center. Hence, with the same amount of 
energy generated, we may by a process of attention learn 
a thing so that it will be remembered well. Usually, a 
thing that is learned to the accompaniment of peripherally 
initiated impulses is best remembered, since peripherally 
initiated impulses generally consist of a greater amount 
of nervous energy than do centrally initiated ones. A 
great nervous impulse will modify the nervous arc and 
enable us to remember better than a small one. Repetition 
assists in remembering, because several impulses have a 
greater effect in modifying the nervous arc than does a 
single one. 

So while it is a general rule that we remember best what 
is learned with the most feeling, the rule applies strictly 
only to those cases in which the greater resistance, which 
is the concomitant of the great feeling, arises from the 
transmission of a strong nervous current through a nerv- 
ous arc. If the feeling comes from a diseased condition of 
the arc, or from the nature of the arc itself, instead of 
from the strength of the current, the feeling is no satisfac- 
tory indication of better remembering. Too much feeling, 
a painful tone, may be of such a nature as to interfere with 
the growth of the cells of the arc, and instead of enabling 
us to remember better, it may diminish our power to re- 
member. Children who learn something as a task that is 



RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY 189 

exceedingly disagreeable to them do not remember it better 
in consequence of the greater feeling with which it is 
learned. Intensity of feeling is not always and under all 
circumstances, evidence of facility or certainty of remem- 
bering. 

So far, our discussion of feeling in its relation to mem- 
ory has been limited to the factor of mental reproduction 
alone. Retentiveness we have excluded from the discus- 
sion as not a factor at all. But mental reproduction is not 
in itself memory. Mental reproduction may exist without 
any mental recognition, and the result cannot be called 
memory. Much more frequently then we are aware, we 
reproduce ideas that we have obtained from other per- 
sons, and we believe them to be our own and original with 
us. Probably most of our brilliant ideas are of this kind. 
It seems as if in the organization of our knowledge, it is 
necessary that the element of mental recognition shall 
drop out, and the reproduced ideas be brought into juxta- 
position as if they had really originated with our own 
thinking processes. Certain it is that the element of re- 
production may occur without the element of mental rec- 
ognition, and it is possible that mental recognition may 
occur without mental reproduction. 

Before we can say that a thing is remembered, it must 
be recognized as the subject of a former experience. Men- 
tal reproduction and mental recognition are both neces- 
sary to memory. Consciousness of the experience as hav- 
ing been in the mind before constitutes the element of 
mental recognition. What is its physiological concomi- 
tant? The proper logical answer to this question will en- 
able us to perceive the true relation between recognition 
and feeling. Memory is the reproduction of a past experi- 
ence with all its conscious elements. In order to remem- 
ber a thing, we must be conscious of the thing when it is 
experienced. But we have interpreted consciousness as 
the concomitant of the radiation of the nervous impulse 



190 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

out of the brain center into the fringing cells, and the con- 
comitant of mental recognition, then, will be the radiation 
of the nervous impulse out of the center into the same 
fringing cells into which it spread on the primary occasion. 
This will comply with our definition of memory as the re- 
instatement of an experience with the same conscious ele- 
ments and we may recognize the physiological concomitant 
in the transmission of a nervous impulse through the same 
brain center that it went through before, and the spread- 
ing out into the same fringing cells. 

When we are trying to remember a man's name, we have 
a feeling of familiarity. We know what it is that we are 
searching our memory for; we are acquainted with many 
of the attending circumstances that were in the fringe of 
consciousness when we learned the name, but we fail to 
recall it. We drive the nervous impulse through the cen- 
ters corresponding to each of these attending circum- 
stances, trying to make it slip over into the center which, 
when traversed, will accompany the name, but we fail to 
make it go through the name center. Finally we come to 
some circumstance, from which it seems that the passage 
over into the name center is easier than it was from the 
others, and the impulse passes over and we remember the 
name. The name is reproduced. It seems as if in this ex- 
perience of the fringing circumstances and the feeling of 
familiarity, we have the element of mental recognition 
without that of mental reproduction. Everything is ready 
to recognize the name as soon as it is reproduced. This 
fact of mental recognition without reproduction is men- 
tioned by several writers. Oolvin and Bagley speak clearly 
about it. " While as a rule, recall is accompanied by recog- 
nition, recognition often takes place without recall." {Hu- 
man Behavior, p. 246. ) 

If this hypothesis is a valid one, the role of feeling in 
memory is at once apparent, and the question why we re- 
member best the things that we learn with feeling is easily 



RELATION OF FEELING TO MEMORY 191 

answered. In order that there shall be a radiation of the 
impulse out of the center into the fringing cells, there must 
be resistance encountered, and feeling will inevitably ac- 
company it. Anything that was learned without con- 
sciousness would not be recognized even if it were repro- 
duced. Consequently, feeling, the concomitant of resist- 
ance, is almost inevitable in the learning of anything that 
is remembered. But the feeling is not the cause of the re- 
membering, but is rather an inevitable accompaniment. 
There is no causal relation between memory and feeling. 

The above consideration will enable us to account for 
the fact that mental recognition is likely to disappear 
much sooner than the element of mental reproduction. As 
an experience is reinstated a good many times, the passage 
through the brain center becomes easier, there is less re- 
sistance, the reproduction is more effective and accom- 
plished with greater ease, but in consequence of the dimin- 
ished resistance, the nervous impulse is not compelled to 
radiate out into the fringing cells. Hence the element of 
recognition is likely to disappear sooner than is the ele- 
ment of reproduction, and even to disappear as the element 
of reproduction increases in certainty and force. 

Just as in the case of mental reproduction, however, this 
feeling is the accompaniment of mental recognition only 
when it comes as the result of a large and strong nervous 
current. If the resistance occurs in consequence of the 
natural inertness of the brain tissue, or some pathological 
condition of the centers, the resistance and the concomi- 
tant feeling will have no effect in increasing the probability 
of the element of mental recognition arising. 

Synopsis. 

1 — Memory is the reinstatement of a previous mental 
experience with the same conscious elements. Its physio- 
logical concomitant is the reinstatement of a nervous im- 



192 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

pulse in the same brain center that it passed through be- 
fore, and its radiation into the same fringing cells. 

2 — The remembered experience is less vivid than the 
original, and is accompanied by less feeling. 

3 — We remember best the things we learn with feeling 
if the concomitant resistance arises as the result of a large 
amount of nervous energy transmitted. If the concomi- 
tant resistance arises from fatigue, disease, or some other 
property of the nervous arc itself, we do not remember 
better the things that we learn with feeling. 

4 — The memory process resolves itself into the concomi- 
tant of neural habit. 

5 — It is scarcely proper to speak of memory in connec- 
tion with plants, or with animals that do not manifest the 
phenomena of mental activity. 



Chapter XII. 
THE KELATION OF FEELING TO ATTENTION. 

In entering npon the study of attention in any of its 
relations, we are undertaking one of the most difficult 
problems in the whole range of the science of psychology. 
It involves some of the most refractory materials in the 
psychological complex. Fortunately, it appears that there 
is a possibility of applying the methods of experiment to 
its investigation, so that ultimately it may appear not so 
obscure as it seems to be at present. 

A probable hypothesis for directing observation and 
experiment is very much needed in the study of attention, 
perhaps even more than in any other phase of the subject. 
It appears that much energy is being devoted to lines of 
observation that can prove profitable only by demon- 
strating what it is not. Fortunately also for our study, 
the probable hypothesis of attention is necessarily in- 
volved in that of feeling. 

A nervous impulse is caused to follow its path in trav- 
ersing the brain center, and in passing from one center to 
another, by the degree of resistance which exists in the 
possible paths that it may take. The current follows the 
path of least resistance, and when this is considerable, it 
appears to be divided. While the main portion passes 
directly through the nervous arc, another radiates into 
other cells than those immediately involved. We may be 
perfectly assured that^he nervous impulse, in a general 
way, follows the path of least resistance. Any process by 
which the resistance may be varied between brain centers 
will direct the impulse, and we are unable to suppose any 
other process by which it can be directed. In this con- 

193 



194 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

sideration, we have the key to an explanation of attention. 

Attention is a mental process, but we shall best under- 
stand it by means of its physiological concomitant, if we 
can determine what that concomitant is. We may be quite 
safe in asserting that attention is the concomitant of a 
process by which a nervous impulse is directed into and 
through a brain center. But this is a double process, 
manifesting two phases, both of which are involved in 
every act of attention. 

In order to direct an impulse into a brain center, the 
resistance must be decreased between the center where the 
impulse is and the center into which it is to go. But at 
the same time the resistance must be increased between 
the center in which the impulse is and the center into 
which it is not to go. The process by which the resistance 
is decreased is the concomitant of positive attention, and 
that by which the resistance is increased is the concomi- 
tant of negative attention. In every act of attention, then, 
we have these two processes of increasing the resistance in 
one place and decreasing it in another. Attention is a 
double process, and its physiological concomitant must 
manifest the same duplex character. 

If our explanation of the general character of attention 
is at all plausible, it is at once seen that there is no possi- 
bility of localizing the process of attention, in any portion 
of the brain. There is no such thing as an attention cen- 
ter, as there is a sight center and a hearing center, for 
attention is a process whose function is manifested in any 
center and between any two. Some experimental evidence 
has been adduced which is interpreted to indicate that the 
process of attention is located in the frontal lobes. The 
nature of this evidence is to show that when the frontal 
lobes are removed or injured, there is a failure of atten- 
tion. We may admit the fact without admitting the cor- 
rectness of the interpretation. The strong probability is 
that the excision of any considerable portion of the cortex 



RELATION OF FEELING TO ATTENTION 195 

in which nervous energy is generated would result in the 
failure of attention in an equal degree. The indications 
of a weakening of attention will manifest themselves 
whenever and wherever there is a lack of nervous energy. 
We may pass by the theory of the location of attention in 
the frontal lobes, as not only unwarranted by the evidence, 
but as highly improbable from the nature of the case, and 
contradicted by other well observed phenomena. 

There are several suppositions that may be made con- 
cerning the nature of the process by which the resistance 
may be varied. We have already seen reason to believe 
that the resistance is encountered at the synpases, or 
points of junction of the neurons, where an impulse leaves 
one neuron and enters another. We have spoken of the 
neuroglia as being an insulating substance, meaning that 
it offers more resistance to the passage of a nervous im- 
pulse than does the cell substance. Although difficult of 
demonstration, this is in all probability true. The prob- 
lem, then, of decreasing resistance depends upon varying 
the conducting capacity of that small portion of the neu- 
roglia which separates the arbor al terminations of the 
neurons from each other. 

At least two methods are conceivable. We may suppose 
that the neuroglia changes its conductivity at the point of 
nearest approach of the neurons, something as the insu- 
lating material of an electric conductor may have its con- 
ductivity increased by becoming wet. This is the hypoth- 
esis advanced by Sherrington, who conceives of the neu- 
roglia surrounding the neuronic extensions as a synaptic 
membrane whose osmotic conductivity is variable, and 
functional in only one direction. No supposition is ad- 
vanced about the mechanism by which the osmotic con- 
ductivity can be varied, and the hypothesis seems less 
probable than the next to be considered. 

Instead of this we may suppose that the tips of the 
axonic and dendritic terminations of two cells may ap- 



196 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

proximate each other more closely so as to bring them into 
physiological communication, though not likely into 
physical contact. This would be the condition of positive 
attention, while a wider separation of the tips of the 
dendrites would be the condition of negative attention. 
The shifting of the dendrites, then, either toward each 
other to accompany positive, or away from each other to 
accompany negative, would be the physiological concomi- 
tant of attention. This second hypothesis is more easily 
understood, and will be adopted provisionally in these 
explanations. Whether this shifting of the dendrites is 
the actual process by which the resistance is increased or 
decreased, or not, cannot be positively affirmed, but the 
psychological facts that are observed would all be ex- 
plained by the operation of this process. 

There is some evidence, based upon the observations of 
Rabl-Ruckard, M. Duval and others, that the dendrites do 
shift their position. The principal value of their observa- 
tions for us, however, is to demonstrate that there is such 
a possibility. The amount of movement observed by them 
would necessarily be altogether inadequate to account for 
such phenomena as we find manifested in attention. The 
phenomena of attention demand a quick movement through 
molecular distances, or distances so small as scarcely to 
come within the limits of microscopical observation. And 
the observation would have to be made upon some animal 
in which the attentive processes were as rapid as those of 
man, and probably in very few animals that could be ob- 
served do such processes occur. Hence it is very doubtful 
if the phenomena of movement that this theory of atten- 
tion demands could ever be observed. It is like the dance 
of the atoms that no one has seen, but the phenomena that 
we can observe demand such a movement for their ex- 
planation. 

The movement of the dendrites has been appealed to by 
several writers to explain various things, so that the idea 



RELATION OF FEELING TO ATTENTION 197 

is not a new one. Morat says {Physiology of the Nervous 
System, p. 23) : "If the neurons are fixed, they are neces- 
sarily immobile. If they are free from attachment, they 
are capable of receding and approaching each other under 
conditions that are not yet ascertained. Rabl-Ruckard, 
Lepine, Tanzi, M. Duval, have appealed to displacements 
of this kind to explain the dissociations, variations, func- 
tional paralyses which are observed in health and in cer- 
tain maladies." 

Wundt (Physiological Psychology, Vol. I, p. 46) asserts 
that: "They [the fibers] never mediate a connection di- 
rectly between cell and cell. Whenever such a connection 
occurs, it a ppears to be mediated solely by the contact into 
which the dendrites and collaterals are brought with one 
another throughout the gray substance. This view finds 
support in the observations made upon the peripheral ter- 
minations of the nerve fibers." Also, (p. 51) : "The 
anatomical plan of neuron connections is evidently more 
adequate than this older view to the physiological results 
which prove that there exists along with certain localiza- 
tions of function, a very considerable capacity for adapta- 
tion to changed conditions." Again, (p. 54) : "Amoeboid 
movements of the dendrites were first described by Rabl- 
Ruckard." So we shall find that quite a number of psy- 
chologists have observed dendritic movements of various 
kinds, and the conclusions that we may draw from their 
observations is that the tips of the dendrites are not fixed. 
The determination of the dendritic movement as the con- 
comitant of attention is altogether hypothetical, and is 
perhaps beyond the limits of observation. 

We may call this theory of attention, the brain- cell 
movement, or the dendritic movement theory of attention. 
It will account nicely for the process of varying the resist- 
ance between centers and for directing the current. All 
the phenomena of attention will find an easy explanation 
upon this theory. But the difficult matter is to account 



198 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

for the movement of the dendrites. Why should they 
move? Here we touch upon the fundamental problem in 
psychology and, like the question "Why anything is", we 
shall have to set it aside without discussion until happily 
we may be able to answer other ultimate questions. The 
phenomena of dendritic movement appears to be of the 
same order as that of the movement of any other organic 
unit. Why does an amoeba move as it does ? Why does a 
sensitive plant droop its leaves? Why does a nervous 
impulse invariably accompany a mental process? These 
are questions of the same order, and at present a discus- 
sion of them will be found unprofitable. 

In cases of voluntary attention, there is always experi- 
enced a consciousness of effort. Investigations of the phe- 
nomena of attention have been directed largely upon it, 
and the conclusion has often been reached that the feeling 
of effort is associated with muscular tension. So much 
impressed have some investigators been with these mus- 
cular phenomena, influenced also probably by James's 
theory of feeling, that they have not hesitated to declare 
that the muscular tension accompanying the feeling of 
effort is attention ; that attention consists of the muscular 
movement and nothing else. 

Instead of agreeing that muscular tension is the origin 
of the feeling of effort, others have believed it possible to 
demonstrate that it was the feeling of muscular innerva- 
tion instead. The evidence in support of this view is 
found in the fact that when a muscle is paralyzed, the feel- 
ing of effort is as strong as it ever was. It seems that the 
muscular contraction is not at all necessary to the feeling 
of effort. This is a fact that can be testified to by very 
many persons. Hence it is argued that it must be the 
innervation rather than the muscular contraction that is 
the origin. Although the facts cannot be denied, and the 
advocates of the muscular contraction theory of effort in 
attention cannot explain them, nevertheless the theory 



RELATION OF FEELING TO ATTENTION 199 

that it is the muscular innervation instead of muscular 
contraction is not very generally accepted. 

It is without any doubt, in cases of partial paralysis, the 
nerve fiber that is deprived of function and not the muscle. 
Hence the muscle is not innervated, and the nervous im- 
pulse reaches only into the fiber so far as its function is 
not destroyed. There is no reason to suppose that in such 
cases the nervous impulse passes out of the brain center, 
and we may with as much reason locate the origin of the 
feelings of effort in the brain center as in the nerve itself. 
It seems in the light of the evidence, that the real feeling 
of effort is not in the contracting muscle, but is a central, 
nervous function. 

Ribot localizes the feeling of effort in the head, and be- 
lieves that it is caused by the contraction of the muscles 
on the outside of the skull. It will probably be found that 
the feeling of effort is localized in the head, but instead of 
being on the outside of the skull, it is on the inside. We 
may be pretty certain that it is associated in some manner 
with the movement of the dendrites, not with the contrac- 
tion of the muscles of the face nor of the body. 

We may agree that muscular contraction many times, if 
not every time, accompanies the process of effortful, vol- 
untary attention, and yet not be willing to admit that the 
muscular contraction is attention. It seems rather easy 
to demonstrate that instead of being attention, the mus- 
cular contraction accompanying it is, in so far as it exists, 
a failure of attention. 

If there is a decided feeling of effort, we shall nearly 
always find a vigorous muscular contraction. But if there 
is a feeling of effort in attention, it will easily be under- 
stood that much resistance is encountered in the brain 
center through which the nervous impulse is passing. 
Effortful attention is a painful and fatiguing process, since 
great resistance is encountered. But when resistance is 
encountered in the brain center, the nervous impulse tends 



200 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

to spread out into other centers, and to go over into those 
that are most easy of access, which as we have previously 
found are likely to be the motor centers, and muscular con- 
traction results. If attention were to be perfect, directing 
the nervous impulse into and through the brain centers, 
decreasing the resistance in the center itself, and increas- 
ing the resistance between the one center and the surround- 
ing cells, the nervous impulse would not escape from the 
brain center, there would be no overflow, hence muscular 
movement would not occur. The muscular movement that 
is observed in attention, then, results from a failure of 
attention to confine the impulse to the brain center, and 
permitting it to escape. 

Also, if the attention is not successful in confining the 
impulse to the brain center by diminishing resistance in it, 
we shall have much resistance, and the muscular contrac- 
tion that follows will be accompanied by vivid conscious- 
ness. Consciousness, muscular contraction, much feeling 
accompany effortful attention that is not thoroughly suc- 
cessful. ConsciousDess, muscular contraction, much feel- 
ing are not marks of successful attention, but rather indi- 
cations of the failure of attention to accomplish its most 
perfect work. 

If the attention is successful in directing the nervous 
impulse through the brain center, without letting any 
large proportion of it escape, we shall be ablo to accomplish 
very much more intellectual work with the expenditure of 
the same amount of energy than if the attention is not so 
successful. We may be very sure that if much feeling is 
manifested in doing intellectual work, much muscular con- 
traction that has been called the expression of feeling, and 
a vivid consciousness of what we are doing, the attention 
is not succeeding so well as it might in doing the work it 
is capable of accomplishing. 

Did you ever see a large boy learning to write? He 
grips his pen hard, bends his head down to his work, twists 



RELATION OF FEELING TO ATTENTION 201 

his feet around each other, moves his head in unison with 
the movement of his pen, his whole body sways, his tongue 
is thrust out and follows the stroke of his pen. He must, 
according to the muscular movement theory, be giving 
great and successful attention to his work. But his writ- 
ing does not show that attention has been successful. 
When he has learned to direct his energy more skillfully, 
he is able to sit up straight, to move his pen without mov- 
ing his head or swaying his body, and his pen is not 
gripped so hard. Attention is more successful, the ex- 
traneous movements disappear, and the writing is better 
done. Feeling is diminished, writing becomes a less pain- 
ful process, he can write without being so intensely con- 
scious of what he is trying to do, and more work is accom- 
plished with the expenditure of the same energy. 

The closeness of the relation between feeling and atten- 
tion is involved in the muscular movement theory of atten- 
tion. We have already considered muscular movement as 
an expression of feeling, and the advocates of the muscular 
movement theory assume that the movements we have 
described as the expression of feeling constitute attention. 
Attention, then, is nothing more than the expression of 
feeling. It seems that this is a legitimate deduction from 
the premises adopted by the advocates of the muscular 
contraction theory. 

But attention and feeling are closely related, although 
we cannot admit that they are identical, nor that atten- 
tion is nothing more than the expression of feeling. We 
have described attention as the psychological concomitant 
of the process by which the resistance in the brain center 
and from one center to another is varied. It is evident, 
then, that attention is a process by which feeling may be 
varied, and this is one of the most striking phenomena of 
attention. 

The fact that attention is a double process involving 
both positive and negative attention, makes it a difficult 



202 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

process to study. We have no means of discriminating 
positive from negative except by results, and we can image 
the two processes only by means of their physiological con- 
comitant. When we speak of attention, it is seldom that 
the speaker distinguishes which kind, positive or negative, 
is meant. Hence it is that the most contradictory con- 
clusions are drawn concerning the function and the effect 
of attention. Any satisfactory theory of attention must 
harmonize the apparently contradictory experiences, and 
any theory that does so has in this fact much evidence in 
its favor. 

It will conduce to clearness if we limit our definitions 
somewhat more than we have previously done, and assume 
that attention is the concomitant of the process by which 
the resistance is varied in a brain center and the impulse 
conducted through it. We may omit for the time the con- 
sideration of the physiological concomitant in directing 
the impulse from one brain center to another. Positive 
attention is the concomitant of the process by which the 
resistance to transmission in the brain center is dimin- 
ished, and negative attention is the concomitant of the 
process by which the resistance in the brain center is in- 
creased. In positive attention the dendrites are shifted 
closer together, and in negative attention they are shifted 
farther apart. 

It will be seen that negative attention increases feeling. 
That many of our ills, discomforts, and diseases are imag- 
inary, or manifestations of hysteresis is well known, and 
known best by those who have studied the matter the most. 
We can conjure up a pain or an ache in almost any part of 
the body at any time. A steady examination of the end of 
the finger for a minute or two will engender a decidedly 
peculiar feeling in that part, and if it is continued long 
enough, doubtless pathological symptoms will appear. If 
we look at a single letter or figure on the page of a book 
for a few minutes, with the proper kind of attention, we 



RELATION OP FEELING TO ATTENTION 203 

shall come to the feeling that this is the most peculiar let- 
ter or figure that was ever printed. So not only in our 
physical sensations, but in our social relations and mental 
operations negative attention is the occasion for most of 
our discomforts. Jealousy, suspicion, envy, malice, nearly 
all of the malevolent feelings are accompanied by a process 
of negative attention. The general name for this whole 
class of symptoms that verge on the pathological is worry. 
Worry may be defined as the feeling accompanying the 
process of continued negative attention. 

Perhaps one-half of all the discomforts that we endure 
arise from this condition. We give negative attention, 
increase resistance in the brain center through which the 
nervous impulse is passing, use up energy in overcoming 
resistance, and while we experience a painful feeling, we 
diminish the amount of intellectual work that we are 
capable of doing. 

On the other hand, positive attention decreases the re- 
sistance in the brain center and is capable of decreasing 
feeling. If the source of our discomfort is a previous 
condition of negative attention or if in common phrase 
our disease is imaginary, or caused by worry, this is all 
that is needed to cure the disease. Since perhaps half 
of all of our discomforts are of this kind, the various 
faith cures and Christian Science and miracle shrines do 
work that goes far to redeem them from the charge of 
charlatanry. Every real faith cure, or mind cure, or Chris- 
tian Science healing, finds its ready explanation in the 
phenomena of attention. It is a simple explanation, and 
is scarcely sufficient to justify the founding of a new re- 
ligion, nor to render less worthy of condemnation the vari- 
ous mummeries and mysteries that are adjudged to be 
necessary in the operations of saints relics and healing 
shrines. The various paraphernalia and mysteries and 
ceremonies and incantations connected with the modus 
operandi of all forms of healing of this kind are merely 



204 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

devices by means of which the proper kind of attention may- 
be induced. Not one of them can have any effect except as 
it induces the proper kind of attention, and one is just as 
effective as the other when, by its means, the proper kind of 
attention is secured. What is commonly designated as 
faith healing, prayer cure, magnetic healing, and Christian 
Science has been described as really effective only when 
applied to the diseases and discomforts arising from the 
process of negative attention. Equally successful is the 
treatment of a regular physician when his medicines 
produce their greatest effect, as they frequently do, by in- 
ducing the proper kind of attention in the patient. In such 
cases, bread pills are as effective as any other, and fre- 
quently to be preferred. 

But there are pathological cases involving a lesion of 
the tissues, toxic products arising from bacterial growth, 
destruction of functional activities or some other cause, 
which, no matter how it may be directed, attention will not 
and cannot heal. Attention will have no effect upon the 
growth of the germs of diphtheria, nor consumption, and 
a broken leg will not respond to prayer. And yet, even in 
these cases, when the lesion is obscure, the painful feeling 
may be caused to disappear even from the most violent, 
dangerous and painful of them by a process of attention. 
Attention of the proper kind may actually decrease the 
resistance in the brain center until all feeling of discom- 
fort disappears. Then the danger is that the patient re- 
ports perfect faith healing and may die the next day. 
Attention may cause the pain to disappear, but the re- 
moval of the pain is not a cure of the disease. Usually, 
however, the faith healers apply no other criterion to test 
whether the disease is cured or not, except the elimination 
of pain. 

Pain is, as we have seen, a beneficial device by means of 
which we are informed of a dangerous pathological con- 
dition that may threaten the life and safety of the indi- 



RELATION OF PEELING TO ATTENTION 205 

vidual. To destroy the pain, either by diminishing the 
amount of nervous energy by means of opiates, or by faith 
working through attention, is not to heal the disease, but 
to remove the test that we might apply to determine its 
presence, condition or improvement. In such a case, faith 
cure is on a par with opium. It is like covering the crack 
in a broken beam with paint. 

We have thus made clear the relation between feeling 
and attention, and we have seen how exceedingly intimate 
is their connection. We have been able to discriminate 
the two processes clearly by means of their physiological 
concomitants whose determination is of necessity alto- 
gether hypothetical. However, since the hypothesis has 
shown itself able to explain all the phenomena of attention, 
we may assume that it is true until we find facts that con- 
tradict it. The utility of the hypothesis does not depend 
upon the possibility of demonstrating its truth. 

The relation between intellect and feeling is a reciprocal 
one. With a given amount of nervous energy the more 
feeling the less intellectual work is done, and the less feel- 
ing the more intellectual work may be done. But atten- 
tion is a double process, so we shall expect to find that the 
law of the relation between attention and the intellectual 
process will partake of this duplex character. 

If we consider positive attention, the relation is easily 
understood. Positive attention diminishes feeling, and 
renders the amount of work that can be done greater than 
if the attention is not so successful. Positive attention 
may heighten perception or sensation to a very great 
amount. We can hear a clock tick at a distance many 
times as great when we are attending as when we are not 
attending. When we know what to look for, we can see 
or discover the lost thing with a much greater facility 
than when we do not know exactly what it is. Hence it 
is that the problem of apperception resolves itself largely 
into a problem of attention. 



206 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

The process by which the perception is heightened by 
attention seems to be as follows : When I am listening for 
the clock to tick, I am already imagining how the tick of 
the clock will sound. I am reproducing the ticking sound 
that I have heard before, and am already sending a cen- 
trally initiated impulse through the clock-ticking center 
by a process of attention. It requires a much smaller 
peripherally initiated impulse to pass through the clock- 
ticking center when the dendrites are all set by the process 
of attention, thus facilitating the transmission, than if the 
same setting had not occurred. Hence I can hear the clock 
ticking much farther away, or a much fainter tick than if 
I am not attending. The slight peripherally initiated 
impulse travels the nervous arc, and this constitutes the 
difference between the percept and the idea. 

In the same way we may explain the seeing of what we 
expect to see. The centrally initiated impulse is already 
traversing the brain center that corresponds to that object, 
and a very slight peripherally initiated impulse will pass 
readily over it. The dendrites are all set so as to facilitate 
the passage, by the process of attention. 

The perception of the slight changes in the tension of 
the muscles by means of which blindfolded persons find 
articles hidden by others, the so-called muscle reading, 
together with other mystifying performances find their 
explanation in the very much heightened perception result- 
ing from perfect attention. Even the phenomena of hypno- 
tism is best explained by the supposition that it is a process 
of perfect attention. 

This is the explanation given of it by Braid, its founder, 
and although the explanation has been much criticised, it 
has not been examined in the light of this dendritic move- 
ment theory, and no other explanation has been made that 
is anything like so satisfactory. 

Negative attention has just the opposite effect. We can- 
not see what we do not expect to see. Every observer picks 



RELATION OF FEELING TO ATTENTION 207 

out that to which he attends and is unable to perceive the 
rest. The puzzle in a puzzle picture arises from the fact 
that we do not know exactly what to look for, are unable 
to attend to it, do not set the dendrites, so it is difficult to 
see that which the picture presents. This is the explana- 
tion of all that passes under the name of apperception, and 
it is not a new nor unheard of process. 

Consciousness and feeling are directly related. Hence 
we shall expect to find that the process of attention which 
increases feeling will increase consciousness, and that 
which decreases feeling will decrease consciousness. Posi- 
tive attention tends to decrease consciousness, as will be 
readily recognized by everyone who has given very close 
attention to any matter for some time. Under a process 
of close positive attention, the person finds that time passes 
rapidly. He becomes so much absorbed in his work that 
he is almost unconscious of what he is doing. This is one 
of the ways that we have spoken of in Chapter X by which 
consciousness becomes diminished. Attention may de- 
crease consciousness by confining the impulse to the nerv- 
ous arc, permitting little or none of it to escape into the 
fringing cells. Here we have the explanation of the phe- 
nomena often adduced as evidence in favor of the James 
theory of feeling. A person who is in danger escapes from 
that danger, and only after the escape does he experience 
any feeling. At the time of danger, his positive attention 
processes are very successful in preventing the radiation 
of the nervous impulse, by diminishing the resistance in 
the brain center. He escapes from the danger by what 
seems a miracle. His actions are so perfectly adjusted to 
the exigencies of the case that they are called instinctive. 
This is merely perfect attention directing the nervous 
impulse without waste, accomplishing extraordinary intel- 
lectual results, and diminishing feeling and consciousness. 
Afterward, when the attention is diminished to the ordi- 
nary effectiveness, consciousness and feeling appear in 



208 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

intense form. Even the unconsciousness of the hypnotic 
state seems to find its interpretation in the lack of radia- 
tion occasioned by perfect, or nearly perfect positive at- 
tention. 

Sometimes, however, unconsciousness is occasioned by 
intense feeling. A person is said to faint from excess of 
emotion. Here it seems as if the nervous arc is interrupted 
in its continuity, and the current is broken. When the 
current is no longer passing, then none of it can radiate 
out into the fringing cells, and unconsciousness results. 
Intense feeling, extraordinary resistance, great negative 
attention, interruption of all current— all of these seem 
to be associated with each other. The action of negative 
attention in producing unconsciousness is similar to that 
of chloroform, which as we have previously stated, is best 
accounted for by supposing that the action of chloroform 
produces a retraction of the dendrites until they are be- 
yond the point of physiological communication, the circuit 
is broken, the nervous impulse fails to pass, there can be 
no radiation, and unconsciousness follows. 

It seems as if we have in these considerations an ex- 
planation of contradictory facts. How the process of 
positive attention can produce much or little feeling. How 
both positive and negative attention may bring about a 
condition of relative unconsciousness. The explanation 
seems to be satisfactory, and the hypothesis is accordingly 
helpful. 

The relation between feeling and memory we have seen 
to be generally one of direct relation. That thing is re- 
membered best which is learned with feeling, if the feeling 
arises as the result of the transmission of the largest pos- 
sible amount of nervous energy through the brain center, 
and attention is the process by which it is directed. Hence 
it is that attention rather than feeling is the determining 
factor in the process of mental reproduction. If atten- 
tion were absolutely perfect, it seems as if there might be 



RELATION OP FEELING TO ATTENTION 209 

a possibility of learning a thing so that it should never be 
forgotten. 

Synopsis. 

1 — Attention is the psychological concomitant of the 
process by which a nervous impulse is directed into and 
through a brain center. It is the concomitant of the proc- 
ess by which resistance in the brain center is varied. 

2 — Attention has two phases: positive, which is the con- 
comitant of the process by ivhich resistance is decreased; 
and negative, the concomitant of the process by which 
resistance is increased. Both phases are involved more or 
less in every act of attention. 

3 — There are two possible theories: one, that resistance 
is varied by changing the conductivity of the synaptic 
membrane; the other, that resistance is varied by shifting 
the dendrites through molecular distances; toward each 
other in positive attention, away from each other in nega- 
tive attention. The second theory is adopted in this book. 

4 — Positive attention may decrease feeling, and this is 
the explanation of the decrease of pain in faith cures and 
mind, cures. Negative attention increases feeling, and 
this is the source of pain in worry, hysteria, and imaginary 
diseases. ^ - ! 



Chapter XIII. 
THE RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL. 

That there is a phenomenon of mental life called will 
which every one recognizes as a constituent element in his 
own experience, no one will deny. That its nature is very 
complex and difficult to conceive in any way, is equally 
evident. That most of the discussions of will have in- 
volved inconceivable propositions, and have been largely 
beside the question, is quite as demonstrable. The reason 
for presenting the question in its present connection is 
found in the fact that there is a recognized relation be- 
tween feeling and will, and that no discussion of feeling 
can be altogether satisfactory which does not show the 
harmony between the theory of feeling and the recognized 
phenomena of will. 

To the older psychologists, will was a simple matter. 
It was merely a self determination of the substantial 
entity and was conditioned by no necessary laws. The 
self activity of the mind and its self determination was 
will. The "Will determined itself." It was not neces- 
sarily determined by anything else. It was a fundamental 
power of the mind, and no other explanation was neces- 
sary or possible. 

As psychology, such a conception of will belongs in the 
section of the psychological museum that corresponds to 
the cases containing the Great Auk and the Dodo. They 
are immensely valuable, veritable treasure houses of ideas 
that once existed, but have failed to survive in the strug- 
gle for existence, and have had to resign their places to 
those conceptions less out of harmony with the facts that 
have been more recently accumulated. 

211 



212 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

But even among the older psychologists, there were 
those who regarded any decision that was made by the 
will as determined by the feelings. It was a common 
expression that feelings formed the will. By this was 
meant that the actions of a person were determined by 
the will in accordance with the feelings. If one kind of 
feeling was experienced, the will acted, of its own accord, 
in one way. But if another kind of feeling was expe- 
rienced, the will acted in another way, although, had it 
been so disposed, it might have acted differently . This 
is merely another statement of the proposition that feel- 
ings are the motive powers and lead to action; that feel- 
ings determine what the action shall be, whether it is of 
a mental or a physical character. 

In opposition to this at the present time, the opinion 
is widely prevalent that it is the intellectual idea that 
determines the action and which works itself out. This 
is the law of dynamogenesis, and it seems to be supported 
by satisfactory observations. 

Either position may be defended by observations that 
all will acknowledge to be true, but this merely shows the 
complexity of the phenomena grouped together as will, 
and the inadequacy of the theory of will as at present 
understood. The full complexity of the phenomena not 
even yet has been fully recognized. All that it is possible 
for us to do is to point out the complexities, to show how 
observations apparently contradictory may be harmon- 
ized, and to exhibit the phenomena of feeling as mani- 
fested in an operation of the will. 

Will is a double process, one of whose elements is the 
process of attention, which has already been discussed; 
but there is a second element that has not been sufficiently 
considered. We can best make it clear by a resume" of the 
propositions that have been advanced in previous chapters. 

In every current there are certain elements which 
are necessary to constitute it a current. The elements 



RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL 213 

that are common to all currents will very likely indicate 
the essential components, while those characters which 
are peculiar to the individual currents will be left out of 
the number that enter into the conception of a current 
in general. 

In the first place, we have assumed that all the psy- 
chological processes that can be discriminated from each 
other have their concomitants in the elements of a cur- 
rent. It will help us, then, very much to determine what 
the essential elements of a current are. 

Every current must have some kind of a conductor. 
In the case of a river current, the river bed itself is the 
conductor; in the electric current, the conductor is usu- 
ally a wire; in the nervous current, the conductor is a 
nervous arc which in its simplest form consists of a 
nerve, two ganglion cells, and another nerve. 

Every current must have some kind of an insulator for 
the conductor, or some method by which the current is 
kept from leaving it. In the case of a river, the banks 
serve the function of an insulator; in the electric cur- 
rent, the insulator is a covering over the wire, or it 
may be that the air itself serves as the insulating ma- 
terial; in the case of the nervous current, we have as- 
sumed that the neuroglia, and along the course of the 
nerve, the medullary sheath serve the function of the in- 
sulator. It will be seen, of course, that neither the ner- 
vous conductor nor the insulator has any psychological 
concomitant. 

Every current encounters some resistance. In the river 
current, the resistance is the friction of the water against 
the banks, the inequalities in the river bed, or obstruc- 
tions that are encountered. The effect of the resistance 
is to warm the water in the river. In the electric current, 
we call the resistance merely resistance, and we measure 
it in ohms. The effect of the resistance is to produce 
heat. In a nervous current, the resistance has no other 



214 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

name. We are unable to measure its amount, but we de- 
tect it by means of the chronoscope, and its psychological 
concomitant is feeling. 

Every current produces some effect upon the bodies 
in the space near it. We may call this space in which it 
produces such an effect, its field of influence. In the case 
of the river current, the field of influence is indicated by 
the water that is drawn by capillarity out of the river 
into the soil along its banks. Also it is shown by the cur- 
rent of air that is dragged along with the water in contact 
with its surface. In the electric current, the field of in- 
fluence is called the magnetic field, and it is mapped with 
a magnetic needle. In the case of the nervous current, 
the field of influence is the radiation of the nervous im- 
pulse out of the brain center into the fringing cells, and 
its physiological concomitant is consciousness. 

Every current is capable of doing some work. In the 
river, the work may take the form of driving water wheels, 
and turning machinery. It is measured in foot pounds 
or horse power. In the electric current, the work done is 
the turning of motors and driving machinery. In the 
nervous current, the physiological work is the transmis- 
sion of a nervous impulse through a nervous arc, and its 
psychological concomitant is intellectual work, such as 
solving problems, memorizing, perceiving, etc. 

Every current is directed by changing the degree of 
resistance to be overcome, making it greater in one path 
than in another. In the river current it is directed by 
dams and gates. In the electric current, by switches and 
shunts. In the nervous current, by the shifting of the 
dendrites, and its psychological concomitant is attention. 

Every current must have some kind of driving force. 
In the river current, this is provided by the fall of the 
river or, in case of water wheels, the force of the water is 
provided by the difference in level between the water 



RELATION OP FEELING TO WILL 215 

above the dam and the water below, which is called the 
head. In case of the electric current, the driving force 
is called the electro-motive force, and is measured in volts. 
In the nervous current, we have no means of measuring 
it, and no name for the force. The fact that there is a 
nervous current is well recognized, but its driving force 
has not been considered. It is in some way connected 
with the oxidation of tissue, and after the analogy of the 
electric current I propose to call this force the nervo- 
motive force. The psychological concomitant of this 
nervo-motive force, directed by attention, I propose to de- 
scribe as will. 

It will be seen from this determination, that will is a 
double process, one of whose elements is the psychological 
concomitant of the nervo-motive force, and the other is 
attention, both positive and negative. As we have al- 
ready discussed attention, it will facilitate matters if we 
leave it out of consideration for the present, and, using 
a brief expression, speak of will as the concomitant of 
nervo-motive force alone. 

We have thus described the elements of the nervous 
current, and have determined the psychological concom- 
itants of each. As we have one word, current, to ex- 
press the sum of all current elements, so we need one word 
to express the sum of all the psychological concomitants. 
The word mind will not be satisfactory, for it has many 
improper associations. The stream of consciousness is 
unsatisfactory, for it is based upon a different concep- 
tion of consciousness. Neither is the general term con- 
sciousness available for our purpose. Let us coin a new 
term to fit the new conception, and call the combination 
of all the psychological concomitants of the current ele- 
ments-intellect, feeling, consciousness, attention, will, — 
the Psychon. As this is a new conception in psychology, 
it is proper to employ a new word to express it. It will 
be found very helpful to speak of the different element* 



216 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

of the psychon, instead of the different states of conscious- 
ness. 

In order to make this determination of will at all prob- 
able, we need first to demonstrate that there is a nervo- 
motive force, and second, we shall need to present evi- 
dence in favor of the assumption that this force is the 
concomitant of will. 

The strongest evidence of the existence of the nervo- 
motive force is the existence of the current itself. By cur- 
rent, we mean the change in successive molecules of the 
nervous conductor. No one will deny the existence of 
the current, and no one will believe that the current will 
flow and successive molecules change without the mani- 
festation of some force. The nature of the force is be- 
yond our comprehension. Whether it is some form of 
energy similar to one already described in text books on 
physics, or whether it is a different force from any there 
recognized, is beyond our province to discuss. Whether 
it is capable of being transformed into one of the recog- 
nized forces and has a quantitative equivalence to them 
is also beside our present question. But that there is a 
force, the fact of a current abundantly proves. 

Another evidence of the existence of a nervo-motive 
force is found in the fact that brain tissue is oxidized and 
the resulting products have a lower degree of complexity 
than those which they replace. Whenever substances 
undergo a chemical change resulting in the production 
of substances of a lower degree of complexity, energy is 
liberated. The change is a katabolic change, and results 
in the liberation of energy. 

In the next place, we find that all mental processes 
stop almost instantly when the conditions for this chemical 
action in the brain are not present. Pressure on the 
carotid arteries results in unconsciousness in thirty sec- 
onds. Hemorrhage induces fainting. The brain weighs 
only about one-fiftieth as much as the body, but it draws 



RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL 217 

usually from one-twelfth to one-eighth of all the blood 
sent out from the heart. 

It is not necessary, however, to stop the supply of blood 
in order to stop mental action. All that is necessary is 
to shut off the supply of oxygen to the brain, and this may 
be done by cutting off the supply of oxygen to the blood. 
The blood may continue to flow, but if the person is in an 
atmosphere that contains no oxygen the same results 
follow as if the blood supply were cut off. More than this, 
we find that when severe mental work is accomplished, 
there is a greater amount of katabolic substances pro- 
duced in the brain and excreted from the system. 

The next question is, why do we determine this energy 
liberated in the brain to be the concomitant of will? The 
reason is not far to seek. The evidence is found in the 
facts of concomitant variation between the nervo-motive 
force and the psychological phenomena of will. When we 
are able to make proper allowance for all modifications 
of the nervous current that arise from the variations in 
resistance, character, and modifications of brain tissue, 
and of the substance of the nervous arc, for the effect of 
habit, and the variations in attention, we shall always 
find that the strength of will varies directly as the amount 
of nervous energy liberated. The facts that constitute 
this evidence may be grouped under three heads. 

The first group of facts are those derived from an ex- 
amination of pathological conditions of will. We find in 
every case of weakened will that the bodily conditions 
are such as to diminish the amount of tissue oxidized in 
the brain. Some of these pathological conditions are 
cases of habitual users of alcohol, morphine, opium, co- 
caine. In every case, the formation of a habit of this 
kind results in weakened will. Why does not the drunk- 
ard of morphine-eater or cocaine fiend discontinue the 
habit ? Every one not so afflicted is sure that under simi- 
lar conditions he could quit, so why does not the drunk- 



218 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

ard? The drunkard could if he had the present ability 
to generate energy that the normal person has, but he 
does not have it and his will is weak, so the breaking of 
the habit is a chemical impossibility with him. Indul- 
gence in a narcotic habit always results in lessened oxida- 
tion of tissue in the brain. The entire range of metabolic 
processes in the body is circumscribed, and this can 
usually be recognized in the paler complexion, ascribed to 
the lessened number of blood corpuscles which are the 
carries of oxygen ; in the loss of appetite ; in the sluggish- 
ness of the circulation ; in fact, in almost all the processes 
that we have found to be essential to the liberation of 
nervous energy. 

We have a classical example of this weakening of the 
will from the use of opium in De Quincey. He tells us 
that when he was addicted to opium, letters would lie 
for months on his table unanswered. He knew that 
they should be answered, knew exactly what to say in 
answer, but he could not bring himself to do it. His will 
was weak. Many of us have unanswered letters, or some- 
thing else that corresponds to it, and the reason is the 
same. Our wills are temporarily weak, not perhaps from 
indulgence in opium, but from other causes. In such 
a case, when we feel disinclined to work and to do what 
we ought to do, the only proper thing is to do something 
that will enable us to liberate more nervous energy. We 
need to take a vigorous walk, to start the blood to mov- 
ing more rapidly to the brain, to breathe more fresh air 
so as to oxygenate the blood. 

In this way, by liberating more nervous energy, we 
strengthen the will. The proper treatment of a narcotic 
habit is indicated by its effect. The treatment is to do 
anything that will cause more nervous energy to be lib- 
erated. Good food, plenty of exercise to quicken the cir- 
culation but not enough to induce fatigue, pure air, and 
it may be necessary, although it may not, to discontinue 



RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL 219 

the drug immediately. Anything that will cause more 
energy to be liberated will strengthen the will. Some 
cases of weakened will do not arise from a narcotic habit. 
Some diseases have for their principal symptom a weak- 
ness of will. Ribot, in his Diseases of the Will, gives many 
examples. 

When one is fasting for several days, the most notice- 
able and persistent psychological symptom is a weakness 
of will. Nothing that is not done by the force of habit, 
and this indicates little resistance, can be undertaken. 
This fact of little resistance which can arise only from 
the small amount of nervous energy liberated, accounts 
for the fact also, that not only the painful feeling of hun- 
ger almost disappears after the third day, but all other 
sensations are diminished in intensity. Notes of the psy- 
chological condition of a man completely abstaining from 
food for seven days continually emphasize the fact of 
weakness of will. No other condition of a pathological 
nature was present, but weakness of will was a most 
pronounced psychological manifestation. When food is 
lacking to repair the waste of tissue, oxidation cannot pro- 
ceed with its usual rapidity, and less energy is generated. 

Fernald presented to the Psychological Association in 
1911, what he described as a "Kinetic Will Test." It was 
a device by which a person was induced to stand as long 
as he could without letting his heels touch the floor. By 
the device employed, the limit of mental persistence was 
reached before the limit of muscular resistance was en- 
countered, and the time that a person could stand in this 
position was taken as a measure of the strength of will. 
This method of measuring the will conforms exactly to the 
hypothesis advanced in this chapter, and the name 
"kinetic will test" is thoroughly appropriate; although 
the name of the test, perhaps by the advice of some per- 
sons who would not be in accord with the present hypo- 
thesis, has been changed to "an achievement capacity 



220 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

test/' which is a sufficiently meaningless and vapid name 
to satisfy the least radical. 

Another line of evidence is derived from an examina- 
tion of the intensity of sensation in cases of weakened 
will. We find that whenever there is a clear case of 
weakened will the senses are not so acute nor the sensa- 
tions so vivid as when the will is not weakened. In meas- 
uring the acuteness of the sense of touch, the dividers 
must be spread farther apart in order that they shall 
be perceived as two points than is the case with the same 
person at a time when his will is strong. The person 
with a weakened will cannot detect so small differences 
in light nor color. He cannot detect so faint sounds, nor 
are any of his senses so acute. 

We know that a sensation is accompanied by an impulse 
peripherally initiated of a considerable strength. Periph- 
erally initiated impulses which accompany sensations 
are always strong, and it is by means of this fact that we 
are enabled to distinguish a percept from an idea. So we 
shall find that if the amount of nervous energy available 
for psychological processes at any time is less than the 
usual amount, the impulses originating in the sense or- 
gans will be less than they usually are, and that we shall 
be unable to experience sensations of the ordinary degree 
of intensity. The argument is this: Intensity of sensa- 
tion depends upon the quantity of nervous energy which 
is manifested by the nervous impulse. The weakened will 
is always accompanied by a diminished intensity of sen- 
sation. The conclusion is that the weakened will is the 
concomitant of the diminished amount of nervous energy, 
or nervo-motive force. 

It is now necessary to consider the relation between 
attention and the will. Many writers on psychology 
assert that there is no difference between them, and that 
a thing is willed merely by a process of attention. That 
attention is an act of the will, and willing to do anything 



RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL 221 

means attending to that thing. Let us try to make the 
relation clear. 

The nervous energy that has been generated by the 
oxidation of tissue must be gathered up and driven 
through a brain center. It is liberated, probably, in 
all of the developed brain cells. This is the concession 
made to those writers who insist that the whole brain is 
involved in all mental processes, and that the doctrine of 
localization of function is, if not a gross error, at least 
very misleading. We may allow that every portion of 
the brain does participate, in general, in every mental 
process, by furnishing the nervous energy which must be 
gathered up and driven through a brain center. 

It is like the diffused electricity generated on the plates 
of a battery. The gathering up of the nervous energy 
and directing it through the brain center is the work of 
the concomitant of attention, thus making of it one of 
the two parts of the double process of will. The nervous 
energy liberated may fail to be gathered up and driven 
through the brain center when the effect is as bad as if 
it had not been liberated at all. This sufficiently explains 
the facts that have led persons to assert that attention 
is will. Attention alone is not will, but no act of the will 
can occur without attention. Voluntary attention is one 
of the phases of will. 

This determination of will also involves an explanation 
of the phenomena that have led many persons to assert 
that feelings form the will; without feeling there can be 
no will ; and that feelings are the motive powers. 

Our previous study has shown us that the resistance 
which is the concomitant of feeling is determined by 
two factors, each varying independently, and producing 
the resistance as the resultant. The first of these factors 
is the strength of the current, or nervo-motive force; sec- 
ond, the nature of the arc itself, which may be modified 
by habit, attention and pathological conditions. In the 



222 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

production of some feelings, one of these factors will be 
the principal determinant, and in the other classes of feel- 
ing, another. Hence we shall discover that the most con- 
tradictory phenomena find their proper explanation in 
the independent variability of these two factors. 

If we limit the study of the will to the single element 
of nervo-motive force, we shall be able to discover the ex- 
planation of the phenomena that lead to the belief that 
feelings form the will. If we suppose the other factor 
constant, the feelings will vary with the nervo-motive 
force. The person who manifests a strong will, then, will 
be the person who experiences much feeling. When the 
will is weak, little feeling will be manifested. Attention 
and the nature of the conductor remaining the same, the 
strength of will may be reckoned in terms of feeling; 
much feeling, strong will ; weak feeling, little will. 

As we have previously seen, the person who is capable 
of generating little nervo-motive force is not likely to ex- 
perience intense feeling. The intoxicated person does not 
experience very much feeling, and does not have very 
much will. He is easily induced to do things at the 
solicitation of others, and experiences none of the feelings 
of shame or remorse that he would if he were not intoxi- 
cated. The victim of a narcotic habit, while under the 
influence of the drug, is relieved of all his painful feeling, 
mental and physical. The vividness of his feelings and 
his strength of will disappear at the same time. An in- 
toxicated man is not unaware of what he is doing, but his 
feelings are so weak that he does not care. 

The same thing is true of a very sick person. A per- 
son who is approaching the point of death, is not suffer- 
ing very much, either physically of mentally. He has 
no mental or physical feelings of any great strength and 
vividness, and does not will to live. The persons who are 
watching at his bedside are probably enduring more 
anguish of spirit than is the dying man himself, for he has 



RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL 223 

passed the point where he is able to will or to experience 
feeling. The amount of nervous energy that he is capable 
of generating is not great enough to encounter much re- 
sistance in any part of the brain. 

Strength of will and vividness of feeling are asso- 
ciated with each other, although not in a causal way. 
The feelings are not the cause of the will, nor is the will 
the cause of the feelings; but both feelings and will are 
the concomitants of the same process, the liberation of 
a large amount of nervous energy, which encounters re- 
sistance in passing through a nervous arc. 

The strength of will is generally judged by means of 
the amount of activity that the person is capable of ex- 
hibiting. The person who generates the largest amount of 
nervo-motive force is the person who, other things being 
the same, will have the largest amount of energy to expend 
in activity, and also will be the one to manifest the 
greatest amount of feeling. Hence we have the condition 
that corresponds to the direct relation between feeling 
and will. 

But it appears that under certain conditions when we 
are least capable of manifesting the activity that is indi- 
cative of will, we experience the greatest amount of feel- 
ing. When we are fatigued or sick, and are incapable of 
generating energy in so great quantities as usual, we seem 
to experience more than the ordinary amount of feeling. 
Circumstances that ordinarily would not occasion anxiety 
or worry, annoy us greatly. We are unable to endure the 
same amount of physical pain, and anger is more easily 
aroused than before. Anger, worry, physical and mental 
pain often seem to be excessive in a situation when we are 
incapable of generating energy in quantity, and when we 
recognize our condition as that of weakened will. 

Evidently this situation is directly contrary to the 
theory that feelings form the will, or that feelings and 
will vary directly with each other. The explanation of 



224 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

the discrepancy and the difference between this series of 
phenomena and the preceding will be found in the effect 
of attention in the production of feelings. Whatever 
the basis of the physical nervous concomitant of atten- 
tion may be, it is evidently something that is fatiguing 
and demands the expenditure of nervous energy. One 
of the first indications of the failure of nervous supply 
is the inability to fix the attention steadily upon the 
matter in hand. Hence it is that when there is a dimin- 
ished amount of nervous force, the failure of attention 
may be sufficient to increase resistance, and feeling will 
increase. It is corroborative of this that, in such cases, 
feeling is increased only in the processes that are unusual 
and out of the ordinary routine. So long as nothing oc- 
curs to disturb our equanimity there is no manifestation 
of increased feeling; but when an unusual, non-habitual 
situation arises, and an effort of attention is needed to 
prevent the increase of feeling up to the painful point, 
then we fail and the feeling is intensified. 

It remains for us to consider will in its relation to 
feeling as determined by the nature of the conducting 
material, as it is modified by habit or pathological condi- 
tions. We can say but little concerning the relation of 
will to feeling as thus determined, except to recognize 
that this factor may completely conceal the operation of 
attention and the strength of the current. We can estab- 
lish no law except that, with a given amount of nervo- 
motive force and a constant capacity for attention, the 
modification of the conductor by habit will tend to dimin- 
ish resistance and its concomitant feeling. The law that 
expresses the relation between feeling and will, when 
stated in terms of the other factor, will need modification 
when we take this second factor into account. 

Pathological conditions usually tend to increase re- 
sistance and feeling, with a given amount of nervous 
energy. But it apears that there are pathological con- 



RELATION OF FEELING TO WILL 225 

ditions in which reaction time is diminished, and we 
might draw the conclusion that resistance is diminished 
in corresponding amount. Such pathological conditions 
are those usually associated with inflammation of the 
nervous tissue of the brain or nerves and when such dis- 
turbance becomes very great, the corresponding mental 
condition is acute mania or delirium. It would seem that 
the resistance itself is not diminished, but rather in- 
creased, and the feeling is very great, but the amount of 
nervous energy generated is in excess and the mechanism 
of attention is thrown out of order. 

The phenomena of feeling in its relation to the intel- 
lectual process has already been described. But it re- 
mains to consider that relation in the light of our de- 
termination of the concomitant of will. The larger the 
quantity of nervous energy that is transmitted through a 
nervous arc, the greater will be the amount of intellectual 
work accomplished. Hence it will be seen that there is 
a direct relation between will and intellectual work. An 
action is determined by the clearness with which it is 
perceived before the action is accomplished. This fact 
is sometimes well stated by calling the idea of an action 
the motive. The clearer the idea of the action, the more 
certain the action is to follow. If a large amount of 
nervous energy is already traversing a nervous arc, the 
dendritic movements are already made that direct it 
through, and the additional nerve force finds its way 
easily over the same path. 

So we find, as a general rule, subject to modification 
by other circumstances, that the person with great intel- 
lectual power is a person of strong will. As the will is 
weakened, the intellectual ability is diminished. The 
modifications to which the law is subject are those aris- 
ing from the fact that the relation between intellect and 
feeling is a reciprocal one. We have just described feel- 
ing and will, in one aspect of the case, directly related, 



226 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

and feeling and the intellectual process as reciprocally 
related. Hence we have a modification of the law to in- 
clude the effect of feeling, in so far as the feeling arises 
from the increase in the strength of will. This modifica- 
tion is one whose effect is included in the discussion of the 
apparent direct relation between intellect and feeling on 
page 49. 

Synopsis. 

1 — The essential elements of a current are the con- 
ductor, insulator, work done, resistance, field of influence, 
methods of directing the current, and driving force. 

2 — Each of these elements of the nervous current, ex- 
cept the first two, has its psychological concomitant. All 
the psychological concomitants taken together may be 
called the psychon. 

3 — Will is the concomitant of the driving force of a 
nervous current, plus attention, which directs the force. 

4 — That there is a driving force, or nervo-motive force, 
is shown by the fact that there is a current, and that the 
metabolic processes result in products of a lower degree 
of complexity. 

5 — That the will is the concomitant of nervo-motive 
force is shown by the weakened will in cases of narcotic 
habit, by pathological cases of weakened will, and by the 
fact that whenever the will is weaker than usual, the sen- 
sations are diminished in intensity. 

6 — Feeling and will are directly related to each other 
if the resistance arises from an increased amount of ner- 
vous energy; they are reciprocally related if the resist- 
ance is due to a modification of the nervous arc itself. 



Chapter XIV. 
THE RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO. 

Many persons believe that the presence of feeling of 
any kind is conclusive evidence of an independent, self 
active entity that thinks, feels, and wills, which is not a 
part nor a function of the body, and is not dependent 
upon the body for its existence. Feeling is considered 
to be more satisfactory evidence than any other mental 
process, because it is more completely subjective, and 
testifies to the condition of the self rather than furnishes 
information of an external object. This is essentially 
the statement of Mr. H. R. Marshall, who says : "Feeling 
is subjectivity, and bears a close relation to the empirical 
ego. It is the empirical ego which has not yet become 
explicit." While this statement would probably not be 
satisfactory to many dualists, it does, nevertheless, em- 
phasize the importance of feeling in demonstrating the 
existence of the ego. 

The doctrine of the ego asserts in a general way that 
there is an entity, or a substantial existence residing in 
the body and using the body as its instrument. The body 
is not a part of the ego, but serves merely as a means by 
which the ego exerts an influence upon material things. 
All mental processes are activities of the ego, and are de- 
termined by it. The growth of the body, the organization 
of the brain, the development of the human being, are all 
dependent upon the ego, which exists independently of 
them, employing the brain and nervous system merely as 
a means of acting upon the material world. As feeling 
does not in itself act upon the external world, it is as- 

227 



228 THE PEELINGS OF MAN 

sumed to be the best evidence of the existence of the ego. 
There is little distinction made between mind, soul, ego, 
in this system of philosophy. The three terms are prac- 
tically synonymous. 

Since feeling is commonly assumed to be evidence of 
the existence of this independent, self active entity, it is 
necessary to examine the matter somewhat carefully, to 
see what is the real significance of feeling in the dis- 
cussion. A careful examination will show that instead 
of being an evidence of the existence of an independent 
ego, whatever testimony feeling has to offer, is rather 
opposed to the doctrine. 

The independent, self active entity called the ego or 
mind, is that which is left after all the properties that 
pertain to the body have been taken away from the com- 
plex unity of body and mind. This is the ground on which 
the distinction is made between mental feeling and physi- 
cal pain. Physical pain belongs to the body, and is not 
an essential constituent of the mind. Mental pain be- 
longs to the mind and not to the body. If we subtract 
all those properties that belong especially to the body, we 
shall discover the essential nature of the mind. 

Let us consider the mind as existing apart from the 
body, retaining only those characteristics which are nec- 
essary to manifest its real nature, and dropping all those 
feelings that have been experienced in consequence of its 
physical connection. Physical pain cannot be considered 
an essential constituent of it. Physical pain has its 
function in preserving the body, and by it the mind could 
take cognizance of injurious conditions. 

Besides physical pain, there are many egoistic feelings, 
whose function is to preserve the body from destruction 
in dangerous situations. Hunger, thirst, nausea may be 
considered as belonging to the physical sensations, but 
the feeling of fear is a mental pain, and its only function 
is the preservation of the individual. In a state where 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 229 

the body has already been destroyed, the retention of the 
feeling of fear would be meaningless and absurd. Hence 
we readily see that fear, and all other self-preserving 
feelings belong to the physical organism, or to the com- 
plex association of mind and body, and not to the con- 
ception of the soul or the mind. 

Next, there is a large group of community preserving 
feelings that have been considered especially marks of 
the soul. We readily think of pity, charity, and sym- 
pathy as examples; but equally so are anger, hate, and 
revenge. The entire group of community preserving feel- 
ings has been developed out of the necessity for preserv- 
ing the community and preventing it from being de- 
stroyed. When all necessity for preserving the commu- 
nity has disappeared, the retention of these feelings 
would be devoid of significance. Hence it is that we can- 
not think of them as constituting an essential element in 
the organization of the mind. Certainly revenge, hate, 
and anger would be willingly discarded, but they are no 
less feelings of this community preserving group than are 
the others and if one may be thought of as necessary, all 
the others must be. 

The holiest feeling of the human heart is mother love. 
But mother love is one of the race perpetuating feelings, 
developed out of the necessity for preserving the race and 
perpetuating the species. When the occasion for per- 
petuating the species is past, and the physical conditions 
that render it possible are removed, there can by no pos- 
sibility be a retention of the feelings appropriate to the 
functions. Hence the entire group of the race perpetuat- 
ing feelings must be conceived as having no function, ex- 
cept as they belong to the physiological complex of the 
body as it manifests mental processes. These race per- 
petuating feelings belong, not to the essential nature of 
the mind, but to the physical connection of the mind with 
the body. 



230 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

We have now had reason to discard from the essential 
nature of the mind, all the self preserving, community 
preserving, and race perpetuating feelings, and it would 
appear that there is very little left that any one would 
care to retain. All of these discarded feelings have their 
reason for being, not in the nature of the mind, but the 
physical processes of the individual complex. They be- 
long to the physical organism as a means for its preserva- 
tion and perpetuation. They give warning of danger, fur- 
nish a means of multiplying its efficiency, and insure its 
reproduction, multiplicatioD, and improvement. No one 
of these feeliugs could by any possibility have any mean- 
ing, or justification for its existence, were it not for the 
physical organism through which they manifest them- 
selves, and which they preserve. Hence it is that the 
feelings, when properly understood, furnish not an evi- 
dence of the existence of an independent, self active en- 
tity, but so far as they testify at all, they demonstrate 
the inadequacy of such a conception. Instead of uphold- 
ing the hypothesis that they are cited to prove, their testi- 
mony is rather against it. The fundamental principle of 
psychology, as in all other biological subjects, is that 
every mental process is now or has been in the recent past, 
of some advantage to the individual, the race, or the 
species. But every advantage that is furnished by feeling 
accrues to the physical complex, and not to the mind con- 
sidered apart from it. 

The problem of accounting for the feelings is not so 
simple a matter as the doctrine of the ego would make it 
appear. The feelings are assumed to be the most con- 
clusive evidence of an ego, but the ego is considered to be 
self active, and every mental process a manifestation of 
its activity. Feeling, then, is an activity of the ego, and 
is accomplished by some change in itself, not at all deter- 
mined by external conditions. The ego feels as it decides 
or wishes to feel. It is virtually independent of nervous 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 231 

and material conditions. This means that feelings are 
determined by the will, and those persons are consistent, 
if nothing more, who assert that the ego is will, instead 
of feeling. But even if the will determines the feelings, 
the will itself is self caused activity, not determined by 
anything else, and moves from one condition to another 
without any cause, which is an unthinkable proposition. 

One other circumstance is believed to demonstrate the 
existence of the independent, self active entity called the 
ego, and that is the fact of a continuity of experience 
throughout all the years of the individual life. This is 
the phenomenon of personal identity, and is rather an 
effect of the functions of memory than of feeling. 

It is worthy of note that the continuity is not complete 
nor absolute. It is rather apparent than real, for the in- 
dividuality of the person does change. Not only are there 
rapid conversions, but a slow change is constantly in 
progress. We fail to recognize it as a change, just as we 
fail to see the hour hand of a clock move, but the change 
and disruption of unity is constantly going on. But 
there are periods of rapid change, turning points in one's 
life, such as the climax of adolescence, which are easily 
observed, when, as the result of rapid growth the entire 
nature seems to change and the person to be made over 
anew. We fail to recognize the ordinary changes in con- 
sequence of their slowness, but nevertheless they are real 
and important. Two stages in the life of the same indi- 
vidual separated by a period of years are more widely 
different from each other than the stages of two indi- 
viduals of the same age. A boy of seven and the man of 
twenty-five into which the boy develops, are more widely 
different than two boys of seven. 

The only thing that consciousness, or cognition, can 
report is a mental process. These are the ultimate facts, 
and that there is an ego of which these processes are 
activities is clearly an inference. That feeling is any 



232 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

more an evidence of a self active ego than any other men- 
tal process cannot be admitted. One mental process is 
quite as conclusive or inconclusive as another. 

There is a very proper use for the term ego and for 
the term mind. The ideas which these terms connote 
are important and necessary. The concept of the ego is 
formed by a process of abstraction and comparison. If 
we compare all the activities of the human being, the in- 
separable complex of the physical organism and the men- 
tal processes, and abstract from all the activities that it 
manifests the common elements, we shall have a combina- 
tion of the characteristics common to all the activities. 
This is a general abstract notion which we may designate 
as the ego. The ego, then, may be denned as the sum 
of the characteristics that are common to all the activi- 
ties of the human being. By a similar process, abstract- 
ing from all the mental processes their common character- 
istics and combining them into one whole, we shall have 
the general abstract notion of mind. 

That the concept of mind is a general abstract notion 
is shown in many ways. Neither feeling, consciousness, 
nor intellection gives us any direct knowledge of mind. 
The only ego that is perceived in any manner is that which 
is manifested in the inseparable complex of body and 
mental processes. No mental process has ever been expe- 
rienced nor observed separated from body and brain, and 
we have no justification for assuming that any such 
separation is possible. No inference can possibly be 
legitimate which carries thought farther than its connec- 
tion with a nervous system. 

But a general abstract notion has no actual, tangible 
thing to correspond to it. It is merely a name for the 
sum of qualities and not for an actual independent ex- 
istence. Life, nature, mind, spirit, reason, justice, are 
such ideas. They are important and necessary for think- 
ing, but the mistake occurs when we accept these crea- 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 233 

tions of the natural consciousness as actual objects. 
When we give them a tangible existence and apply them 
as causes to the explanation of phenomena, then we do 
violence to truth and block the way to progress. 

Happily, in other departments of science, we have al- 
ready passed this critical point, and no longer seek to 
explain the phenomena by an appeal to the abstract. We 
are no longer content to explain the rush of air into an 
exhausted receiver by saying that nature abhors a vacuum. 
We are not satisfied to account for any natural phenom- 
enon by saying that nature acts in that particular way. 
Nature as a cause is not sufficient to account for the phe- 
nomena that we see. No physicist regards gravitation as 
anything more than an abstraction, and the law of gravi- 
tation as a statement of the uniformity in the activities of 
bodies. It is not conceived to be an actually existing thing 
that serves as a cause. 

Neither is it a satisfactory explanation of mental phe- 
nomena to say that the mind acts in such or such a way, 
nor that the mind interprets certain appearances. Mind 
and the ego are as much obstructions in the way of prog- 
ress as are nature, gravitation, and life, when they are 
described as real entities and employed as tangible exist- 
ences to explain natural phenomena. The actual things 
that do exist are the phenomena observed. So in psychol- 
ogy, the actual things that we are called upon to study 
explain and account for are the feelings, rememberings, 
and willings. So psychology becomes the science of mental 
phenomena, not the science of the mind. It is not neces- 
sary to develop a theory of the mind before undertaking 
the study of the phenomena. The science of physics is not 
built upon any theory of the constitution of matter nor the 
nature of force. Such theories are constantly changing 
without in the least modifying the phenomena observed 
nor interfering with the value of the laws that have been 
established. 



234 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

The concept of mind is derived by a process of abstrac- 
tion from the phenomena, the phenomena are not deduc- 
tions from the nature of the mind. Only by means of an 
approach to the subject in this way is psychological prog- 
ress possible. To assert that mental phenomena are the 
manifestations of mind, and that these phenomena exist 
because the mind acts in such and such a way, is similar 
to the method of studying geology that accounts for the 
position of a mountain range by saying that God made it 
there, and reasoning from the Nature of God that he would 
naturally locate it where it is. 

All recent advances in psychology have been made by a 
practical discarding of the conception of mind as an entity 
and no progress is possible so long as it is retained. Prog- 
ress in psychology has been made by a study of mental 
phenomena, not by speculations upon the nature of the 
mind. The method of writing psychology that begins with 
a definition of mind, its nature, and properties, corre- 
sponds closely to the method of writing history which be- 
gins with tracing the genealogy of the earliest kings of 
the country from Adam down. 

So numerous and important are these limitations of the 
doctrine of the ego, that as a scientific doctrine it must be 
discarded, and no longer be considered in the discussion 
of psychological subjects, but it remains for us to account 
in some way for the phenomena that were believed to ren- 
der it credible. We have already seen that feeling, so far 
from being any evidence of the truth of the doctrine of the 
ego, and the independent existence of the mind, is not 
favorable to the theory it is called upon to support. It 
remains, however, to point out the significance of feeling, 
and to interpret it in a way that is consonant with all the 
phenomena of physical and mental life. 

There can be no question that feeling and every other 
element of the psychon, has been developed by the processes 
of variation, fixed by natural selection and transmitted by 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 235 

heredity. Each of these elements of the psychon has con- 
tributed some advantage that rendered a person better 
fitted to survive in the circumstances in which he was 
placed. There are many devices employed to adapt differ- 
ent organic beings to their environments, and many others 
that might have been employed instead of those that were. 

Feeling seems to be one of those devices by which the 
human being has been adjusted and enabled to survive in 
the struggle for existence. The self preserving feelings 
enabled the individual to escape danger, the community 
preserving feelings multiplied the strength of the indi- 
vidual by the strength of the entire community, and 
the race perpetuating feelings guaranteed the continuance 
of the race and the pressure upon subsistence that enabled 
natural selection to operate. 

The feeling of fear led the human being to escape from 
his enemies, but fear is only one of the many devices that 
might have been employed to accomplish the same result. 
In animals such as the social insects, in whom the social 
organization is more pronounced, and the length of life is 
shorter, there seems to be no indication of such a self pre- 
serving feeling as fear. In the human being, love of off- 
spring is one of the most influential feelings, while in many 
animals no such feeling exists, but a different device is 
employed to continue the species. Such a device is mani- 
fested by some fishes, where a single fish may lay ten 
thousand eggs, and no parental care or parental feeling 
is manifested. 

The entire group of feelings may be considered as a 
series of devices to accomplish the purpose of adapting 
the individual and the race to its environment. Why is it 
that these particular devices were selected out of all the 
multiplicity of possible devices that might have been em- 
ployed, and which are shown in the constitution of other 
organic beings, is one of the ultimate questions. There is 
no essential reason why feeling should have been the par- 



236 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

ticular device employed in man to adapt him to his situa- 
tion, any more than that the number of his arms should be 
limited to two instead of extended to five, as in the star 
fish. Neither can we explain why man has become adapted 
to his environment through the device of moving from 
place to place, instead of procuring his food while remain- 
ing stationary, as plants do. 

Consciousness is another device by which man becomes 
adjusted. It seems rather a clumsy, inefficient device, 
available for a transition period, but which tends to dis- 
appear as the adjustment becomes perfected. However, 
it enables an adjustment to be made in situations where, 
without it, the race would be compelled to die out, or aban- 
don certain localities. It stands in the place of reflexes 
and ready-made instincts. Hence it is that plasticity of 
organization instead of fixity of structure is associated 
with the highest forms of consciousness. While it is rather 
a condition of less efficiency, it is sometimes demanded by 
the necessity for meeting the conditions of a changed and 
rapidly changing environment. In no other way and by 
no other device with which we are acquainted, could the 
race so quickly adapt itself to changed conditions. This 
accounts for the fact that many other animals have much 
more completely fixed instinctive adjustments than man, 
and the extreme plasticity of organization that is asso- 
ciated with the lack of fixed instincts makes it necessary 
for man to remain longer in the period of infancy. 

Every manifestation of life consists of the operation of 
some device by which an individual becomes adjusted. 
Man is the best example of adjustment by means of 
consciousness, feeling, and intellection. It is doubtful, 
however, if the human species is at all better adjusted to 
its environment, or stands a better chance of surviving in 
the struggle for existence, than do many of the plants. The 
ragweed is protected from being eaten by a bitter taste, 
while its branching habit, terminal spikes, laciniate leaves, 
and fourteen or fifteen other devices, are so correlated with 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 237 

each other as to render the plant admirably adapted to its 
environment, and to insure its propagation in large num- 
bers, by which it is more likely to survive. A single plant 
may produce five thousand seeds, and for every seed it pro- 
duces about five hundred thousand pollen grains. Yet the 
plant is without intelligence as we understand the term, 
and without feeling. Intelligence and feeling are devices 
by which animals, and especially man, have become 
adapted to their environment. Plants have become ex- 
tremely specialized in another direction which does not 
include intelligence and feeling. 

This is the origin and significance of feeling. It ranks 
in the constitution of the human being, with the terminal 
spikes and bitter taste of the ragweed. Both have a cor- 
responding origin, and both are explainable on the same 
principle. We have tried to show how it is associated with 
the brain and nervous system, and the function it per- 
forms. 

It is necessary for us also, in discussing the relation of 
feeling to the ego, to consider the second series of phe- 
nomena that are relied upon to demonstrate the existence 
of a substantial entity of mind, or the ego. That is the 
phenomena of personal identity, and the persistence of the 
individual through all the years of his natural life. We 
have already seen that this continuity is not so nearly 
absolute as it is commonly assumed to be, and it is our 
purpose to explain how such continuity occurs, and the 
limits that are possible to it. 

This element of personal identity was formerly sup- 
posed to be the result of an intuition, and immediate 
knowledge different from the ordinary processes of per- 
ception and reason. The mind knows itself immediately. 
It is a function of its self activity. Various explanations 
are assigned for it, but if we are to place psychology on a 
natural science basis, it is necessary to show a foundation 
in physiology for this function of identity or sameness in 
the different stages of individual life. We must be able 



238 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

to account for it in some way, to discover its physical and 
nervous concomitant for the basis of all its mutations, 
changes, transformations, and developmental stages. 

It is not difficult to show that every intellectual process 
is capable of being reduced to a single form, that of the 
perception of resemblance. The ordinary sense perception 
is of this kind, and a simple judgment is nothing more. A 
syllogism involves the perception of resemblance between 
two concepts compared indirectly, and every other form 
of reasoning — whether inductive, deductive, analogy, 
recognition, naming, or classification — involves the same 
thing. It is, therefore, the one process that is essential to 
any act of the intellect. 

We have an easy interpretation in physiological terms 
of the perception of resemblance. It would appear that in 
every case where a resemblance is perceived, its concomi- 
tant is the transmission of an impulse through some cells 
that are common to the two centers traversed in the per- 
ception of the two objects compared. Two ideas that are 
totally unrelated seem to have for their concomitants the 
transmission of an impulse through two centers that have 
no cells in common. 

In making a simple judgment, whose expression is a 
proposition, the idea which is the subject has for its con- 
comitant the transmission of an impulse through one com- 
bination of cells. The idea whose expression is the predi- 
cate has for its concomitant the transmission of an im- 
pulse through another combination of cells, some of which 
at least, belong to the same combination of cells that was 
traversed when the idea which is the subject was experi- 
enced. The element of resemblance has for its concomi- 
tant, then, the transmission of the impulse through the 
cells that are common to the two combinations, which may 
be many or few as the resemblance is great or small. 
When this proposition is carried out to its legitimate con- 
clusion, it will appear that every intellectual process has 
for its psychological concomitant the transmission of an 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 239 

impulse through a combination of cells, some of which, at 
least, have been traversed on one or more previous occa- 
sions. 

But this will assist us to conceive of the concomitant of 
the idea of personal identity, or the ego, in terms of the 
old psychology. Every mental process has something in 
common with some other, or every other mental process. 
We recognize a similarity or we should not call them 
mental, and there are further resemblances. 

It is evident that the first impulses that traverse the 
brain will pass through isolated centers. There must be 
two or more combinations of cells traversed before an im- 
pulse will pass from one to the other, or before ideas are 
associated. Later, nervous impulses pass from one center 
to another and association of ideas begins. Ultimately it 
will come about that when a larger number of cells have 
been developed, and association fibers are numerous, that 
it will be impossible for a person to have an experience 
that does not involve as its concomitant the transmission 
of an impulse through centers, some cells of which have 
been traversed before. No unrelated experience is possible. 
When this condition arises, a personality is born, the feel- 
ing of personal identity is aroused, all subsequent experi- 
ences have something more or less in common with every 
other, and there is a continuous connection between 
earlier experiences and all later ones. This is the ex- 
planation of the fact that while two boys of seven are 
more nearly alike than is a man of twenty-five and the 
boy of seven from whom he has developed, that there is a 
kind of resemblance or continuity between the man and 
the boy that cannot exist between the two boys. 

If it were possible to open up a new system of brain cen- 
ters, and to interrupt the connections that are now formed 
between the sense organs and the sense centers to bring 
into operation cells that had never been traversed before, 
then we should expect the continuity to be interrupted and 
a new personality to appear. This explanation seems to 



240 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

be possible, and is able to account for the physiological 
connection between mental processes, and for the facts 
that were believed to necessitate the postulation of an 
entity called mind. 

It would seem, then, that the recognition of an ego in the 
naive sense of the term, is an illusion of the first order. 
The problem is much more complex than has been assumed. 
It involves an answer to the question why any nervous 
impulse is accompanied by a mental process, and this we 
have found to be unapproachable by any means at our 
command. 

For the science of psychology, it is impossible to admit 
the introduction of such an hypothetical entity as the ego. 
We have become able to study physiology without 
assuming the presence of an hypothetical entity called life 
of which all vital activities are manifestations, and we are 
able to describe the phenomena of a living body in terms of 
chemistry, force, and matter without introducing life as 
a cause. We cannot be too frequently reminded that such 
a method of studying physiology was not attained without 
much struggle and much opprobrium heaped upon the 
heads of the physiologists. The dissection of the human 
body was forbidden by law in some countries, and the 
physiologists who treated the matter from the standpoint 
of natural science were subject to many material and ver- 
bal indignities. 

So we have become able to study botany and zoology 
without introducing into it an external cause of which 
every structure and function is an expression. Only in 
some manner as this has it become possible to establish a 
science of physics, chemistry, geology, botany, zoology, and 
physiology. No science is possible unless we assume at 
the beginning of it that nature is uniform in all respects, 
and all activities that we see manifested are neither capri- 
cious nor uncaused, but that each has an antecedent which 
it is possible for us to discover by an examination of nat- 
ural laws. 



RELATION OF FEELING TO THE EGO 241 

Thus it is that psychology must conform to the uniform- 
ity of natural laws if it is ever to become a science. No 
factor must be introduced into the discussion that would 
make of mental processes phenomena completely outside 
of the order of nature and non- conformable with it. Psy- 
chology is the science of mental phenomena, not of the ac- 
tivities of an hypothetical entity introduced for the pur- 
pose of explaining them. By regarding psychology in this 
way, progress is possible, while without it there is no hope. 
Otherwise we shut the door deliberately against all at- 
tempts to increase our knowledge, and we waste our ener- 
gies in useless speculations upon the nature, origin and 
destiny of this entity of mind. 

Only by regarding psychology as a natural science and 
applying to its elaboration the same principles of scientific 
study that have been so laboriously worked out in other 
subjects, can we see a possibility of developing a science 
of education. If there were to be postulated an independ- 
ent, self active entity that is determined in all its activi- 
ties by itself alone, and not by the conditions of its sur- 
roundings and its physical connection, all educational 
laws would be limited to the capricious determination of 
the self active entity. But if we regard the human being 
as part of the natural world, subject to the same laws and 
conditions as are other parts of creation, then we discover 
the possibility of a science of psychology and of education. 

Synopsis. 

1 — Feeling is regarded by many persons as the best evi- 
dence of a self active entity called ego, or mind. Feeling 
is considered as the activity of this self active entity and a 
proof of its existence. 

2 — It can be shown that the evidence of feeling is directly 
contradictory to this supposition, and feelings find their 
raison d'etre in the physical organism. 

3 — The distinction between physical and mental feeling 



242 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

originates in the recognition that some of the feelings exist 
as a consequence of the necessities of the physical organ- 
ism. But equally well it may be shown that all feelings 
originate in the same necessity. All egoistic feelings have 
their reason for being in the effect they have in preserving 
the body; the community preserving feelings arise as a 
consequence of the necessity for preserving the community, 
and the race perpetuating feelings from the necessity for 
perpetuating the race. None of these feelings would have 
any reason for being if the mind were an entity capable of 
acting in a feeling way, and existing apart from the bodily 
organism. 

4 — Knowledge of the ego is not given directly. It may 
be understood as arising from the perception of sameness 
among all mental processes, which has its concomitant in 
the transmission of an impulse through cells that have 
been traversed before. 

5 — This same transmission of impulses through cells 
that have been traversed before, accounts for the conti- 
nuity of the individual. If it were possible to experience 
mental processes which were accompanied by impulses 
traversing cells and centers, none of which had ever been 
traversed before, the continuity would be interrupted and 
a new personality would be born. 

6 — Psychology is a natural science, and rests upon the 
assumption that nature is uniform throughout. The meta- 
physical conception of a self active, independent ego, of 
which the feelings are manifestations, must be discarded 
as has been discarded the conception of nature, or of life, 
as an explanation for phenomena in biology and physics. 

7 — Consciousness, feeling, and intellect are devices 
which have been adopted to enable the individual and the 
species to survive. Other organisms have adopted other 
devices, but consciousness, feeling and intellect seem to be 
the most effective in enabling an animal to make quick and 
prompt adjustment to the exigencies of changed and chang- 
ing conditions. 



Chapter XV. 
MENTAL ONTOGENY. 

If we can establish the truth of the proposition that 
feeling is the concomitant of the resistance encountered 
by a nervous impulse in passing through a nervous arc, 
and that all other mental processes have their concomi- 
tants in some of the elements of the nervous current, we 
shall have a means of pushing our investigations into the 
origin of the mental processes of a child much farther than 
if we had no such hypothesis to guide our researches. It 
seems highly desirable that we shall make the application 
of the doctrine herein enunciated to the beginnings of 
mental processes, since, for the teacher at least, the study 
of the mental processes of the child is the most important 
part of psychology. 

We shall proceed upon the assumption that the theory 
of feeling, and the other processes associated with it, has 
been demonstrated or rendered highly probable by the 
line of argument and evidence adduced in the preceding 
pages. If this can be shown to be not true, our specula- 
tions concerning the origin of the mental processes will 
likewise have to be discarded, and the corroborative cir- 
cumstances will of necessity seek another explanation. 

We find in the infant at birth, no mental processes es- 
tablished. It would seem like an error in judgment for 
Hoffding to assert that the "Beginnings of conscious life 
are to be placed, probably before birth." (Psychology, 
p. 4.) What we do find is that the only processes estab- 
lished at birth are certain reflexes, and these are such as 
are necessary for the immediate continuation of the in- 
dependent life of the child. The reflexes that move the 

243 



244 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

lips and organs of the mouth are present, and these are 
necessary to enable the child to take his first nourishment. 
The reflexes that move the respiratory muscles are already 
well established, for without these movements the child 
would be unable to survive the first five minutes of an 
independent existence. The reflexes of grasping with 
the hands are well established, and Ave find that the child 
in the first half hour of his independent life is able to 
grasp a stick or finger, and by means of this grasping 
reflex, to support the weight of his body for a period vary- 
ing from two seconds to a minute and a half. This reflex 
persists for several days or weeks, but finally diminishes. 
Its presence points us back to the time when the ancestors 
of the human race lived in trees. Such a reflex was 
without any doubt of serious importance to the preserva- 
tion of the life of the child in the arboreal, primitive con- 
dition of man, although it is no longer of essential value. 
It is a vestigial reflex, and is historical rather than of 
immediate utility. 

The crying reflex is also established, and is imme- 
diately available. This reflex is essential to the child, 
for it is a demand upon the parent for assistance, with- 
out which the life of the child is impossible. It is sig- 
nificant that this first signal of the child for assistance 
is an auditory rather than a visual one. Correlated with 
this fact is the fact that the ears of the parent manifest 
no device by which the sound stimulus may be shut out, 
as the eyelid shuts out the light from the eye. The 
auditory signal of the child is not affected in its stimulat- 
ing properties by the change of day and night. 

All of these reflexes (not instincts) are present at birth, 
and are of essential importance for the preservation of 
the child's life in the first few minutes or few hours of his 
independent existence. They have been established by 
variation, fixed by natural selection, and transmitted by 
heredity. Like all other reflexes, they involve no mental 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 245 

activity. It is extremely probable that no one of these 
reflexes is accompanied by the transmission of an impulse 
through a cortical center, but that only what are called 
the lower centers participate in their production. It is 
characteristic of a true reflex to be accompanied by no 
mental process. It has no motive in the psychological 
sense of the term, and cannot be considered as an expres- 
sion of any element of the psychon. If any action does 
involve a mental process, it cannot be considered a reflex. 

We must look for the beginnings of mental life in the 
activities of the senses. The senses at birth are inactive. 
The child is born deaf and blind. He cannot taste or 
smell. It may be questionable if the sense of touch or 
temperature is capable of functioning. All of these senses 
must acquire their proper activity after birth. Let us 
study the development of the sense of hearing, and that 
may serve as a type for the other senses. 

At birth the child is deaf. The ear itself is not ready 
to function. The external auditory meatus is closed, and 
its edges are in contact with each other. Before the ear 
can function, it must open and permit the air to come into 
contact with the tympanic membrane. The middle ear is 
filled with liquid which must be carried away before it can 
become functional. When these changes have been ac- 
complished, the ear is ready to function, but the child 
cannot yet hear. The vibration of the air strikes the 
tympanic membrane, but until a nervous impulse is es- 
tablished in the terminal filaments of the auditory nerve, 
there is is no possibility of hearing. We have no means 
of judging how many repetitions are necessary before the 
vibrations will establish an impulse. 

After a nervous impulse has been established in the 
terminal filaments of the auditory nerve, it must be trans- 
mitted to the hearing center in the brain before there is 
any possibility of a sensation of hearing. It may be that 
the first impulse which is established in the terminal fila- 



246 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

ments is transmitted to the brain center, and goes through 
a combination of cells, but from what we know of the rate 
of transmission of a nervous impulse hi a nerve, and the 
improvement by practice through a nervous arc, it would 
seem reasonable to suppose that the first impulse which 
is started gets only a little way in the nerve. The second 
impulse would travel the same path, and would proceed 
farther along the auditory nerve than did the first one. 
The third and succeeding ones would travel along the 
course of the first impulse, each encountering less resist- 
ance than the preceding until finally a nervous impulse 
would succeed in getting into the brain center. 

But we know that in the brain center, a much greater 
degree of resistance is encountered than in the nerve 
itself. Hence we should expect it to take a much longer 
time to establish a pathway through the brain center than 
through the nerve. The first impulse that enters the 
brain center would, in all probability, be lost completely 
and not succeed in making a complete circuit. Hence its 
concomitant would be all feeling, and not an intellectual 
process, a sensation. This is the interpretation that, in 
the light of the present day knowledge, we might put upon 
Mr. Spencer's statement that, all intellectual processes 
grow out of feeling. 

Finally there comes a time when the nervous impulse 
succeeds in overcoming the resistance and gets through 
the nervous arc in the hearing center. A hearing center 
is thus organized and the sensation of hearing is estab- 
lished. This process of organizing the brain center, over- 
coming the resistance, establishing a nervous impulse, 
and modifying the nervous tissue until it will permit a 
nervous impulse to pass through, demands some time. 
Hearing may be established in the first two days of life, 
but it is more likely to be three or five days. A child may 
be deaf for four weeks and still ultimately become able 
to hear, although, if it cannot hear at the end of the fourth 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 247 

week of life, the probability is strong that it will never 
hear. 

The process which we have illustrated by means of the 
sense of hearing, is the same process that is manifested 
in the original functioning of every other sense. It may 
be that the sense of touch, the most fundamental of all 
the senses, is organized at birth, but the reflexes that are 
adduced as evidence do not prove it to be so. It is prob- 
able that the brain center for touch is not more easily 
permeable for the nervous impulse than is the center for 
hearing. Whether promptly or slowly, we must recognize 
that all the senses become functional in the first few days 
or weeks of life. It remains for us to inquire what mental 
processes are involved in their activity. 

Assuming that the preceding propositions can be es- 
tablished, it will appear that the first mental process that 
occurs is feeling, coming even before the intellectual 
process of sensation. The resistance that is to be over- 
come in a brain center in process of organization is rela- 
tively great. It has already been shown that the prin- 
cipal difference between a feeling that has a painful tone 
and one that has a pleasurable tone is associated with a 
greater or less degree of resistance. Since the resistance 
that accompanies the transmission of the first impulses 
through a nervous arc is a great one, we may say with a 
good deal of probability that the first feelings are painful 
in tone. We reach this conclusion in a theoretical way, 
thus corroborating the observations of many persons who 
have believed that they recognized in the first cries of a 
child the expression of pain. Thus Hoffding speaks of 
the "Cry of pain with which the infant begins its life." 
{Psychology, p. 4) ; and Darwin says that "Infants scream 
from pain directly after birth." (Expression of Emotions, 
p. 352.) 

It is certainly questionable whether this interpretation 
of an infant's cry is justified, but we do know that the 



248 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

cry of a child is an expression which later is associated 
with a feeling having a painful tone, and not with a pleas- 
urable feeling. It much precedes the laugh, which later 
we learn to interpret as an expression of pleasure. Many 
observers refuse to recognize in the cry an expression of 
pain, but certainly it is not an expression of pleasure. 
In fact, all that we can say, if we refuse to recognize in 
the cry an expression of pain, is that the cry is a reflex, 
and not an expression of feeling at all. This is certainly 
a reasonable interpretation, and the cry is not an evidence 
that the first feelings are painful. Nevertheless, it is 
probable that the first feelings are painful, and that the 
reflex cry comes to be adopted as an expression of a pain- 
ful feeling because it is already well established when the 
first painful feelings are experienced. 

There is one way of looking at the matter in which 
we may say that the first mental process is not a painful 
feeling. If we consider feeling a form of consciousness, 
and assert that there can be no mental process of which 
we are not conscious, then the first mental experiences 
are not painful feelings. The child does not manifest any 
consciousness at the time that the first nervous impulses 
are passing through the brain centers. But we have seen 
that this use of the word leads us into very great difficul- 
ties, and it seems much better and more in accordance 
with the facts, even though in opposition to the prevail- 
ing custom, to say that there are many mental processes 
without the accompanying phenomena of consciousness, 
or awareness, of the process. 

We need to ask whether the child manifests any con- 
sciousness in connection with the process which we have 
described as a painful feeling. We have little to guide us 
here except our theoretical considerations again. If we 
think of consciousness as the concomitant of the radiation 
of the nervous impulse out of the brain center into the 
fringing cells, which radiation is occasioned by the resist- 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 249 

ance which the nervous impulse encounters, we have the 
conditions for consciousness. But at the same time, the 
resistance that is encountered in an attempt to pass into 
the fringing cells is also very great, so that it is doubtful 
if in the first nervous impulses there is any radiation, and 
consequently if there is any consciousness. The probable 
conclusion is that the first impulses that enter the brain 
center are not accompanied by radiation, that feeling is 
experienced without any consciousness, and that a feeling 
of a painful tone exists. We may have the same kind of 
a mental process that is experienced by a person asleep 
who is afflicted with nightmare. The person may be un- 
conscious, but every one who observes him will feel con- 
fident that he is experiencing some kind of a painful feel- 
ing. Similarly, when a person is undergoing a surgical 
operation under the influence of chloroform, the condi- 
tions of pain are there — if the narcosis is not too deep — 
but the consciousness is wanting. It seems more nearly 
in accordance with the facts for us to think of these expe^ 
riences as pain, rather than a total absence of all mental 
processes. 

Feeling, then, appears in the psychon before conscious- 
ness. When repeated attempts to pass through a brain cen- 
ter and as frequently repeated attempts to radiate out into 
the fringing cells have so modified the brain centers that the 
nervous impulse can escape, then we have the physiologi- 
cal conditions of consciousness, and this third element of 
the psychon has become established. The first conscious- 
ness is naturally very vague and indefinite, and this fact 
of itself modifies the expressions that tell of the presence 
of other elements, and renders the determination of the 
first appearance of consciousness in the psychon impos- 
sible. At the very best, the first appearance of conscious- 
ness must bear about the same relation to a fully devel- 
oped consciousness that the acorn bears to the tree that 
springs from it. 



250 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

From a single sense a child gets a single sensation. 
This is scarcely complex enough to be called a perception, 
but the difference is not very great. From every sense 
he may receive a sensation when all of them become ac- 
tive. There comes a time after many sensations have 
been received from different senses that the nervous im- 
pulse established in one end-organ combines with the im- 
pulses established in other sense organs according to the 
law of the attraction of the impulse. We have, then, two 
or more impulses which run together, and we have two 
sensations established at the same time that modify each 
other. This is the physiological condition of perception. 

The running together of two or more impulses estab- 
lished in different places, some of which are peripherally 
and some of which are centrally initiated, is the physio- 
logical concomitant of perception. The two or more sen- 
sations are associated by that form of the law of resem- 
blance which is called coexistence. When two or more 
nervous impulses are established at the same time, as 
when we see a bell and hear its sound, or see and feel an 
apple, the combination of these two or more sensations 
constitute the process of perception. It can be shown 
that all knowledge is relative, and that nothing is known 
except as it is related to something else. Perception, as 
well as every other mental process, depends upon the per- 
ception of relations. The formation of the general abstract 
notion, judgment, reasoning, are different degrees of com- 
plexity in the perception of relations. They all have one 
common element, and when one, such as perception, is 
established, we have in it the germ of every other intel- 
lectual process, no matter how complex the process may 
ultimately become. 

The first experience that leads to perception is not a 
perception in itself. Perception involves the recognition 
of relations, and since it is possible to use the term re- 
semblance in a sense broad enough to cover all forms of 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 251 

relation, we may say that perception involves the recog- 
nition of resemblance. This recognition of resemblance 
implies that a nervous impulse traverses some of the brain 
cells that have been traversed before. We shall never 
have a perception unless some of the cells involved have 
been traversed by an impulse on a previous occasion. 

Memory is not a new or really different process. It 
becomes established in consequence of the modification 
of the nervous arc by the transmission of a nervous im- 
pulse through it. The process of memory described in 
Chapter XI may be considered as having its concomitant 
in the transmission of a nervous impulse through the same 
brain center that it traversed before, and the radiating 
out into the same fringing cells. However, in order to 
constitute the process a process of memory, the impulse 
must be centrally initiated and not peripherally, other- 
wise it would be a repetition of the original experience, 
and vivid ; instead of a remembered experience, and faint. 

As repeated experiences which are accompanied by the 
transmission of a nervous impulse through a nervous arc 
become numerous, and the nervous impulse spreads out 
into the fringing cells, the arc becomes modified in such 
a manner that it is very easily traversed by even a feeble 
impulse, such as a centrally initiated one always is. 
When such a centrally initiated impulse is able to trav- 
erse such an arc, and to spread out into the same fring- 
ing cells, we have the physiological concomitant of mem- 
ory in its two phases, mental reproduction and mental 
recognition. There is no new element introduced. The 
nervous impulse goes through the brain center, the con- 
comitant of the intellectual process ; it encounters resist- 
ance, the concomitant of feeling; it radiates out into the 
fringing cells, the concomitant of consciousness. 

It will be seen, then, that there is but little difference 
in the times at which the three elements of the psychon 
become established in the germ. Feeling is probably the 



252 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

first, and is very shortly followed by consciousness and 
sensation. Out of sensation, by an association of sensa- 
tions, and running together of nervous impulses, grows 
perception, and this involves the perception of relation, 
or resemblance, in which is the germ of every other intel- 
lectual process, which develops from it by an increase in 
complexity. By a manipulation and modification of these 
three, we come to experience every other possible process 
and modification of the mental life. 

The consciousness of self does not develop so soon as 
does consciousness. A child is conscious long before he 
is conscious of himself as exercising the mental processes. 
The personality is not born for some time after the mental 
processes of feeliDg, consciousness, and perception have 
become established. The explanation of the process of 
the development of personality is to be inferred from the 
description of it in chapter XIV. The first recollections 
of a person are usually of something that has been expe- 
rienced somewhere between the ages of one and three 
years, although in extreme cases reports have been made 
that seem to be well established as any others, of some- 
ting remembered at the age of ten months. 

When such an event occurs that is thus remembered, 
we may be satisfied that the consciousness of self, or per- 
sonality has become fully established. The time at which 
a child discovers that he has hands, or that his hands 
belong to him, is an important epoch in his life. It is a 
phenomenon that is seldom overlooked by a mother, or 
other person who has intimate knowledge of a baby. The 
probability is that the consciousness of self, or person- 
ality, has become established sometime before the first 
remembered experience, or even before the child has 
found his hands. 

After a child has arrived at a certain stage in his de- 
velopment, which point is reached before he has attained 
the age of two years, or even a year and a half, his brain 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 253 

centers have been traversed by so many different impulses, 
and so many different brain cells have been traversed, 
that no subsequent experience is likely to involve a wholly 
new set. The feeling of familiarity or resemblance, is to 
be found in every subsequent experience however diverse. 
Every experience has an elemnt of sameness which is 
associated with the employment of the same brain cells. 
It is this element of sameness in every experience, which, 
when abstracted, constitutes the feeling or idea of per- 
sonal identity. 

We may picture the matter to ourselves in this way. 
We have in our brains perhaps seven hundred million 
brain cells. It is probable that no large proportion of 
them is ever traversed by an impulse. Let us suppose that 
one hundred millions have at some time been traversed. 
Let us represent this number and group of cells by A. 
Let us represent another hundred millions of cells by B, 
and so on. All of our previous experiences have been 
confined within the limits of the hundred million cells 
designated by A. Let us suppose that we could have a 
totally unrelated experience, open up a new set of brain 
centers which would involve none of the cells in the por- 
tions designated by C, etc. Then we should undergo a 
series of experiences in which there would be no feeling 
of familiarity and a new personality would be born. 

Such a conception will enable us to explain the phe- 
nomena of double, or alternating personality, although 
we cannot account for the mechanism by which such a 
transformation of centers, pathologically developed, 
might be attained. Such a conception is considerably 
more satisfactory than it is to describe the alternating 
personality as a "Portion of the consciousness that has 
split off." Whenever there comes a time that it is im- 
possible to have an unrelated experience, we may say 
that a personality has been born. Until an unrelated 
experience is impossible, personality, or the consciousness 
of self, is still undeveloped. 



254 THE FEELINGS OP MAN 

The oxidatiou of nervous tissue liberates uervo-motive 
force. We must suppose that this liberation of nervo- 
motive force occurs wherever brain tissue is oxidized. 
This process of oxidation and liberation of force, no doubt, 
begins as soon as oxygen is carried directly by the blood 
to the brain tissue. Hence we have from the very begin- 
ning of life, perhaps, antecedent to the independent exist- 
ence of the child, the physiological process whose concomi- 
tant we have recognized as one of the elements of will. 
It is the nervo-motive force that drives the impulse 
through the brain center, but it is scarcely capable of 
originating a centrally initiated impulse sufficiently 
strong to pass through a brain center until the center has 
been modified by previous experiences brought about by 
the stronger peripherally initiated impulses. Hence, 
although nervo-motive force is available immediately at 
the beginning of independent life, nevertheless, there is 
no possibility of an act of the will until after the estab- 
lishment of the other elements of the psychon. 

Nervo-motive force is only one element of the will. 
Attention, which directs the nervous impulse through the 
brain center, is another, and we shall find the element of 
attention appearing along with the other elements of the 
psychon. Whatever it is that directs the nervous impulse 
through the brain center and prevents its spreading out 
into other paths, is the concomitant of rudimentary at- 
tention. In all early experiences this directing of the 
nervous impulse is essentially of the same nature as a re- 
flex. The nervous impulse follows the path of least re- 
sistance as that is determined by the structure of the 
brain, and the nervous pathways already organized. There 
is no effort involved in the process, and in all respects this 
early process of directing the nervous impulse corre- 
sponds to the description of spontaneous attention. It 
depends upon the constitution of the brain centers, it is a 
matter of heredity, and spontaneous attention appears 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 255 

in a rudimentary form as soon as a nervous impulse is 
directed into and through a brain center. All forms and 
degrees of attention are derived from this primary, fun- 
damental condition. 

But there is still a difficult process to study, and to 
show that it harmonizes with the other propositions laid 
down in this chapter. We have already studied the begin- 
nings of rudimentary will, by means of its physiological 
concomitant, but we need to study the process by which 
a conscious voluntary act manifests itself. We shall need 
to trace the development out of a reflex, through imita- 
tion into the conscious voluntary condition. 

A reflex is not a mental process. A muscle may con- 
tract reflexly by means of a stimulus applied either di- 
rectly to the muscle itself or, much better, by a stimulus 
applied to the motor nerve which produces a much more 
vigorous contraction. It is possible, and even decidedly 
probable, that the first reflex contractions of the muscles 
of a child involve none of the cerebral motor centers. 
But when a muscle contracts reflexly, there is established 
in the sensory nerves of the contracting muscle an impulse 
that is carried backward to the brain center for muscular 
sensation. We do not know the location of the muscular 
sensation center, as we do that of the sight and hearing 
centers, but, reasoning by analogy, one exists, and the 
sensory impulse originating in the muscular contraction 
is carried to it. The muscular sensation center becomes 
organized by repeated experiences of this kind. 

The next step in the process is one in which the child 
comes to perceive the movement of his hand, or other 
organ that is moved by the muscular contraction. The 
muscular sensation is experienced, the child sees his hand 
moving, and perhaps experiences the sensation of touch 
from the movement. The combination of all these sensa- 
tions and the recognition of their resemblance, coexist- 
ence, and contiguity, constitutes the perception of the 
movement of the hand. 



256 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

As a result of the organization of the muscular sensation 
center, a nervous impulse runs through it easily, and 
flows over into other centers most easy of access. These 
are likely to be the motor centers, although it is prob- 
able that many other centers are innervated to a greater 
or less degree. The first movements that follow upon the 
overflow of these impulses from the muscular sensation 
centers are not likely to be limited to the movement of the 
hand, if that is the organ that has moved, but many mus- 
cles, of the head, legs, body and hand, may all move as a 
result of this overflow. These movements may be con- 
sidered as expressions of feeling, although they are not 
commonly so regarded. 

The next step in the process is imitation. Imitation 
manifests itself in children long after the reflex move- 
ments have occurred, and there is abundant time for the 
organization of the motor centers in the manner just de- 
scribed. Imitation is believed to be manifested by a little 
child some time between the age of three (Preyer) and 
nine months. (Baldwin.) 

Suppose that a parent waves his hand at a little child. 
The muscular sensation centers, and the sight center for 
the waving of the child's hand have already been organized 
by previous experiences. They have been associated in 
the process of perceiving the movement of the child's 
hand. The impulse traverses the sight-hand-waving cen- 
ter, it may pass over into the muscular sensation center 
for the contraction of the muscles that move the hand, 
and then it flows over into the motor centers for the wav- 
ing of the hand, and the hand moves in response. The 
hand waves in response, because of the similarity between 
the parent's hand and the child's hand. The similarity 
exists in the hand, and it has its concomitant in the cells 
of the sight and the muscular sensation centers. It is in 
this way that the child perceives that it is the parent's 
hand that moves and he interprets and knows the mean- 



MENTAL ONTOGENY 257 

ing of the action by this process which has for its concomi- 
tant the transmission of the impulse through the sight 
center, the muscular sensation center, and the motor 
center. This is imitation, but it is not a conscious volun- 
tary act. 

A sufficient number of such experiences lead to a modifi- 
cation of the different centers involved in the imitative 
act until finally a weak, centrally initiated impulse may 
travel the same path. When this is the case and a cen- 
trally initiated impulse does traverse the sight center, and 
passes over into the muscular sensation center, and over- 
flows into the motor center, then the child is able to see and 
feel his hand waving before it moves. He has an idea 
of the movement before the movement is made. This is an 
antecedent mental act, which constitutes the motive to 
the action itself. It is just this antecedent mental proc- 
ess, which has its concomitant in the nervous impulse 
passing through the hand waving center, that makes the 
difference between the reflex, or the imitative act, and the 
conscious voluntary act. Also, in just this situation, the 
nervous impulse overflows into the motor center especially 
if there is a sufficient amount of current to accompany 
considerable resistance, and the movement follows. This 
movement is a conscious voluntary act, and comes as the 
result of previous experiences of a reflex and imitative 
nature. 

This last point, the establishing of a conscious volun- 
tary act, is the point, at which in general, will is believed 
to originate. As we have already seen, will is established 
before, when there is a liberation of nervo-motive force 
and the direction of it by an effort of attention. The will 
is established before there is any conscious voluntary act. 

Synopsis. 

1 — The theory that feeling is the concomitant of resist- 
ance, and that other elements of the psychon are concomi- 



258 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

tants of corresponding elements of the nervous current, 
enables us to study the phenomena by which the mental 
processes of a child begin. 

2 — The only processes established at birth are reflexes 
which are necessary to enable a child to survive the first 
few hours or first few days of an independent existence. 

3 — We must seek the beginnings of mental life in the 
activities of the senses. The sensations are not expe- 
rienced until a sense organ has become functional, a ner- 
vous impulse established in the peripheral nerve endings, 
carried to a brain center, and the nervous arc traversed. 

4 — Much resistance is encountered in the initial passage 
through a brain center, and much concomitant feeling 
experienced. The feeling is probably decidedly painful. 

5 — Consciousness is not established until after repeated 
trials a nervous impulse is not only able to enter a brain 
center, but to radiate out into fringing cells. This is 
probably accomplished before an impulse succeeds in pass- 
ing properly through a brain center. 

6 — When an impulse succeeds in traversing a brain 
center, sensation is established. When two or more sen- 
sations are established at the same time, and their concom- 
itant impulses run together, we have the conditions of per- 
ception. 

7 — By a modification of nervous arcs, weaker centrally 
initiated impulses are capable of being transmitted 
through the brain center, and memory is awakened. At- 
tention is involved in any process by which the impulse 
is directed through a nervous arc. Will exists in germ 
as soon as nervous energy is liberated. 

8 — Personality and the consciousness of self is estab- 
lished as soon as there have been a sufficient number of 
experiences so that it is impossible to have an unrelated 
one. When it is impossible to pass a nervous impulse 
through centers, none of whose cells have ever been trav- 
ersed before, a personality has been born. 



Chapter XVI. 
FEELING AS MOTIVE. 

Every conscious voluntary act is preceded by some kind 
of a mental process which is called the motive. The action 
follows upon the motive as an effect follows a cause. The 
motive must always precede, and it is an erroneous con- 
ception of a motive to consider an action as induced by 
the effect which follows upon the action itself. The mo- 
tive may be such a mental process that it anticipates the 
result of the action, but in order to constitute a motive, 
the mental process must be experienced before the action 
is performed. A reflex differs from a conscious voluntary 
act in the fact that no mental process accompanies it. 

Many psychologists consider that every conscious vol- 
untary act is motivated by feeling, and that feeling con- 
stitutes the essential antecedent condition, without which 
no action follows. They would regard the proposition 
as self evident that without any feeling there would be no 
occasion, desire, disposition, or possibility of moving. A 
common expression is that "Feelings form the will," and 
no conscious voluntary action can be conceived except as 
the result of some feeling experienced. Dr. McCosh speaks 
of feelings as the Motive Powers, and it is believed that 
feelings have their principal functions as motives to 
action. 

On the other hand, there are psychologists who believe 
that the idea is the motive and the only essential ante- 
cedent mental process. An idea is an intellectual process, 
and may be discriminated sharply from the affective 
process of feeling. An idea is the psychological concomi- 
tant of the transmission of an impulse through a brain 

259 



260 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

center and, strictly interpreted, the impulse must be one 
that is centrally initiated. Those who regard the idea as 
the motive, point to the fact that every idea tends to 
work itself out into action. Whenever an idea is enter- 
tained, the action which corresponds to it is already be- 
gun. If the idea is faint and obscure, the action is feeble 
and manifested only slightly. If the idea is clear and 
definite, the complete and vigorous actions follows. The 
idea of an action is the beginning of the action itself. 
If there is only feeling without the idea, any action that 
follows is merely reflex, spasmodic, and uncoordinated. 
Every idea will manifest itself in some way; if not in 
positive, vigorous action, then in slight movements that 
can be detected by an automatograph. 

Here, then, we have two contradictory theories ap- 
parently irreconcilable. The advocates of feeling as a 
motive fail to discover any motivating force in the idea, 
while the advocates of the motivating force of the idea, 
even if they acknowledge the presence of the feeling, fail 
to discover that it is necessary to the action, but regard 
it rather as a hindrance. The more nearly perfect an 
action becomes, the more nearly free from feeling is the 
antecedent mental process. 

The proposition that feeling is the motivating force was 
advanced before any special consideration was given to 
the physiological processes accompanying it, and when we 
undertake to describe the manner in which feeling brings 
about a conscious voluntary act, we find it is impossible 
to do so. No one has ever described in a satisfactory way, 
the manner in which a mental process of feeling can cause 
a nervous impulse to run out into a muscle and produce a 
contraction. Still less is it possible to show how feeling 
can direct a nervous impulse into a particular muscle, 
thereby selecting the action to be performed. Hence it is 
that we find the psychologists who consider feeling to be 
the motive, minimizing the importance of the physio- 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 261 

logical processes involved, emphasizing the lack of knowl- 
edge concerning them, and relying for explanation upon 
a metaphysical assumption altogether out of harmony 
with the fundamental conception of a natural science. In 
consequence, also, of the felt difficulty of this position and 
its extreme importance, inadequate theories of feeling are 
received with a degree of favor far beyond the merits of 
the theories themselves. 

In this respect, the advocates of the idea as the motive 
maintain a much more satisfactory position. It is a fun- 
damental proposition in psychology that the idea is the 
concomitant of a nervous impulse passing through a brain 
center, and that after having passed through one center, 
it is transmitted to another through which it also passes. 
If this second center is a motor center, an action follows, 
and it is well understood that the idea center is closely 
connected with the corresponding motor center, if not in 
part identical with it. 

But the statement of the motive as made by the new 
psychologists, is far from being satisfactory in conse- 
quence of its lack of appreciation of the function of feel- 
ing. Even if it is recognized that feeling is experienced 
at the same time with the motivating idea, no reason can 
be assigned for its presence, and no function for it is per- 
ceived. It seems very difficult to bring the two processes 
into one scheme of action and to show the function of each. 
If the idea alone is the motive, then feeling has no func- 
tion in determining action, and our fundamental assump- 
tion in the preceding pages is inaccurate and the argu- 
ment is non-sequential. 

Here, then, we have the problem clearly set forth be- 
fore us. Is feeling the motive, the essential antecedent 
mental condition of an action, or is the motive an intel- 
lectual, ideational process, without which no action is pos- 
sible? If, as seems probable in view of the conflicting evi- 
dence, we shall feel it necessary to assert that both feeling 



262 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

and idea are necessary constituents in the motive, it is in- 
cumbent upon us to show what is the function of each, and 
in what manner each enters into the composition of the 
motive. The problem is a difficult one, and one concerning 
which there is the largest amount of data seemingly defy- 
ing all attempts to reduce it to an orderly arrangement. It 
appears, however, not to be insoluble, although many 
things about it will need to be supplied from hypothesis, 
rather than from direct observation. 

The assumption made in the preceding pages is that in 
some way feelings have been serviceable in the preserva- 
tion and development of the individual and the race. A 
feeling is not advantageous in itself, but can have an ad- 
vantageous function only as it induces, causes, modifies 
an action or renders it more efficient. The names that we 
have applied to the different classes of feelings are mean- 
ingless and absurd unless it can be shown that they are 
specifically related to action. The self preserving feelings 
can assist in the preservation of the individual only by 
inducing some action that leads the individual out of 
danger, or by rendering some danger-escaping action more 
efficient. The community preserving feelings can con- 
tribute to the preservation of the community only by 
means of some action to which they hold some essential 
relation, and the race perpetuating feelings could have no 
effect in perpetuating the race, did not some action follow 
directly upon the feeling itself. 

From such considerations it appears that so long as 
we uphold the doctrine that feelings have been important 
processes in the development of the race, we must place 
ourselves with those who consider the feeling as the mo- 
tive to an action. Such conclusion, however, would be 
premature. 

One consideration has apparently been overlooked by 
the advocates of feeling as a motive — that is that no feel- 
ing is ever experienced except in connection with an 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 263 

idea. The feeling is an accompaniment of an idea, and 
can never be experienced without it. I say in general 
this is true. In Chapter XV we have seen reason to be- 
lieve that the earliest mental processes are feelings with- 
out accompanying ideas. But the resulting actions are 
not conscious, voluntary actions, but purposeless, uncon- 
scious, unwilled movements, motivated by feeling and 
differing from reflexes only in the fact that the impulses 
which innervate the contracting muscles are transmitted 
to the muscles from a brain center instead of from a 
spinal or non-cerebral ganglion. This action that is com- 
pletely motivated by feeling cannot be considered a typi- 
cal action, whose explanation it is necessary for us to 
seek, nor will it be adduced as an example by any person 
who considers feeling as the motive. Our admission that 
there are actions completely motivated by feeling will 
bring no satisfaction to the advocates of the theory. Such 
actions are, indeed, unusual and extraordinary, and must 
be regarded as the limit toward which feeling as the 
motive tends. 

On the other hand we have a series of conscious volun- 
tary actions performed under the influence of a motive 
in which feeling is reduced to a minimum. We have re- 
iterated the statement in previous pages that feeling tends 
to disappear from an habitual act. As a result of repeti- 
tion, an action comes to be performed without any feeling 
and even without any consciousness, but it is not thereby 
deprived of its voluntary character. Instead of calling 
such actions secondary reflex, it is a much more nearly 
accurate designation of their character to call them un- 
conscious voluntary. All feeling and all consciousness 
may have disappeared from the antecedent motivating 
process, and the idea alone constitutes the motive. Here 
we have the other limit toward which the motive tends, 
and when an action has approached the motivation of this 
limit, we may assert heartily to the proposition that the 
motive is the idea and not the feeling. 



264 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

Between these two limits is the great body of actions 
whose necessary mental antecedents include both feeling 
and idea, together with other elements of the psychon. 
This is to say that the motive of any typical action in- 
cludes both feeling and idea, and that any interpretation 
of the motive that excludes either is at best only partial 
and incomplete. It now remains to determine what is 
the function of each in the motive, and so substitute a 
complete and satisfactory statement of the motive for one 
that is only partial and incomplete. 

Feeling and idea, affection and intellect, are experienced 
at the same time as the concomitants of different elements 
of the same nervous impulse. There is no necessary rela- 
tion between the relative intensities of the two processes, 
and the psychon may show at any instant a varying in- 
tensity between the two, from a limit of pure feeling to 
the limit of pure idea. We have interpreted the feeling 
as the concomitant of the resistance encountered in pass- 
ing through a nervous arc, which resistance is the result- 
ant of two factors producing contradictory effects, and de- 
manding two laws to state them. One of these laws has 
been stated by saying that with a given amount of ner- 
vous energy the feeling varies as the resisting power of 
the nervous arc. When the resistance is determined 
largely by this factor, there is a reciprocal relation be- 
tween intellect and feeling. The greater the feeling, the 
less exact, effective, and vigorous will be the action. When 
the nervous arc itself furnishes much resistance, the re- 
sulting ideational process is likely to be feeble, obscure, 
and unlikely to result in certain, definite, well directed 
voluntary action. Much feeling will be experienced, and 
little effective action will follow. In our discussion of 
esthetic feelings we learned that, in general, the esthetic 
feelings are the accompaniment of resistance arising from 
bringing new cells into the circuit, and we recognized 
that a large part of the resistance accompanying esthetic 



PEELING AS MOTIVE 265 

feelings depends upon the nature of the nervous arc. As 
a general rule, persons of esthetic temperament are un- 
able to get things done. Few artists are men of affairs, 
or capable of manifesting the highest executive ability, 
and persons generally of an emotional temperament are 
not likely to carry out to completion a long continued and 
difficult course of action. 

So long as there is much feeling arising as the concomi- 
tant of resistance depending upon the nervous system 
itself, the mental processes and the muscular movements 
are erratic, hesitating, and ineffective. As the muscular 
movements become positive, efficient, and emphatic, the 
feeling diminishes. Activity itself seems to have the effect 
of diminishing feeling; feeling diminished, the action be- 
comes more effective. Any person who is experiencing 
intense feeling of any kind, finds in action a method of 
diminishing its intensity. From all these things it ap- 
pears that so long as feeling constitutes any large part 
of the antecedent mental process, the action is not highly 
effective. 

The above considerations are relied upon to justify 
the assertion that it is the idea, and not the feeling, in 
the antecedent mental process that constitutes the essen- 
tial factor in leading to action, and is the real motive. 
Our analysis shows that this position is capable of being 
maintained only in cases in which the feeling that pre- 
cedes the action is the concomitant of resistance which 
has its origin in the nature of the nervous arc itself. If 
only such actions are to be considered, the argument in 
favor of the idea as the motive could be maintained with 
a high degree of plausibility, and would be difficult to 
overthrow. But there is another series of actions to which 
such an argument will not apply. 

There is another factor which determines the amount of 
resistance, and that is the strength of the current. The 
nervous arc remaining the same, the greater the current 



266 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

strength the greater the resistance will be. The greater 
the current strength, the larger the amount of nervous 
energy that will pass through the arc. But the greater 
resistance is the concomitant of increased feeling, and the 
larger quantity of transmitted energy is the concomitant 
of greater intellectual work and clearer ideas. The clearer 
the idea becomes, the more certain it is to result in action, 
and the more effective the action will be. Hence it is from 
this condition alone, the more effective and vigorous ac- 
tion is accompanied by more intense feeling. There is a 
direct relation, instead of inverse, between intellect and 
feeling, between feeling, idea, and action. 

We have many examples of men of action who are at 
the same time men of deep feeling. We expect the orator 
and the preacher to manifest considerable emotion, and 
his discourse is not likely to be effective unless he does. 
It appears that in such persons, a lack of emotional dis- 
play is likely to be considered as indicative of a mind in 
which the mental processes are feeble and hesitant. Simi- 
larly, gesture and movement in a speaker are taken to be 
indicative of a high nervous tension, much feeling, vigor- 
ous ideas. And so we have examples every day of men 
who feel keenly and act resolutely and effectively. It is 
upon examples of such actions that those psychologists 
rely who assert that feeling is the motive, and that the 
more intense the feeling the more vigorous the action 
will be. 

We thus see that the contradictory theories arise from 
partial views of the function of feeling. Our hypothesis 
enables us to see how each party has deceived itself by 
a partial view, and that neither is wholly right nor wholly 
wrong. Feeling is the concomitant of resistance which 
is the resultant of two opposing factors having contradic- 
tory effects and varying independently of each other. 
What the resultant will be in any particular set of cir- 
cumstances it is impossible to calculate or predict. Be- 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 267 

sides this, the resultant is modified by a process of atten- 
tion, or attention constitutes a third factor which still 
more seriously complicates the problem. 

In view of the fact that every action in its origin is 
motivated by feeling, that feelings have undoubtedly been 
advantageous in the development of the race, that they can 
be advantageous only by means of their influence upon 
actions, we are justified in asserting that feeling is, in 
general, an essential constituent of the motive. Then 
again, in view of the fact that, with the exceptions noted, 
no feeling can be experienced except as the accompani- 
ment of an intellectual process, that there can be no con- 
scious, voluntary action without an antecedent idea, that 
feeling diminishes and almost disappears as actions be- 
come more skillfully performed, we are equally justified 
in asserting that the idea also enters as an esential con- 
stituent into the motive. Neither feeling nor idea alone 
is the motivating force, but feeling and idea are both 
essential constituents in the antecedent mental process 
which results in action. 

But the most important question remains to be an- 
swered. Having decided by evidence of the highest de- 
gree of probability that both feeling and idea belong in 
the motive, it is incumbent upon us to show the function 
of each. Unless this is done, we shall have aided little in 
the solution of the problem. It is certain with two diverse 
processes, neither of which can be omitted from the mo- 
tive of a typical action, that both canot perform the same 
function. 

The resistance encountered by a nervous impulse in 
passing through a brain center for the first time, causes it 
to spread out into various undetermined, fortuitous di- 
rections. The result is a series of uncoordinated, pur- 
poseless movements motivated only by feeling, and con- 
stituting emotional expression, rather than voluntary 
acts. However, these primary, uncoordinated, purpose- 



268 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

less movements are necessary to the development of the 
voluntary actions, since it is by means of such impulses 
that the brain centers become organized and cerebral 
transmission paths are marked out. These uncoordi- 
nated movements are a necessary preliminary to any con- 
scious, voluntary act. 

In general, these expressive, purposeless acts, motivated 
by feeling alone, are useless and unserviceable. But some 
of them are or may be advantageous, and are preserved 
by natural selection, or by that particular form of it 
which, in this case, has been called functional selection. 
The nervous organization that renders them ultimately 
inevitable is transmitted by heredity. It is in this way 
that we may account for the origin of those emotional 
expressions that we have recognized as beneficial to the 
individual and to the race. 

An idea, in the proper sense of the word, is the concomi- 
tant of a centrally initiated impulse. The centrally initi- 
ated impulse is always weaker than one that is peripher- 
ally initiated, and the idea is fainter than the percept. 
No idea can be experienced that is not the concomitant 
of an impulse passing through a brain center that has 
been traversed before. No idea of an act can be expe- 
rienced before the act itself has been performed. Before 
the idea of an act can be entertained so as to constitute 
a motive, the act itself must have been previously accom- 
plished. The first time that any action is performed, it 
is done without the antecedent, motivating idea, and has 
the form merely of an emotional expression. 

The above conclusions, which seem to be supported by 
reliable observations, put some serious limitations upon 
the possible actions, and upon the interpretation of their 
origin that have been made. If the preceding statements 
are true, as they seem to be, every action must originate 
in feeling, and, upon its first appearance, must be moti- 
vated by it. No idea can originate an action entirely new. 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 269 

It is impossible for a wholly new action to be willed by 
that hypothetical entity called mind. The will is help- 
less in such a situation, and no psychologist who believes 
in the all-sufficiency of the will is able in the least degree 
to account for the failure of the will to lead to an action 
that is wholly new. The will is utterly unable to originate 
a new action or to organize a new brain center. Even 
the speech center is organized, not by will, but by means 
of impulses originating in sense organs and overflowing 
into it, running out into expressive movements, of which 
ultimately the useful are selected and the useless are 
finally eliminated. 

The organization of the brain center is accomplished 
by means of impulses transmitted through it. The idea 
of an action is obtained from the action itself. The asso- 
ciation of sensation centers and motor centers becomes 
closer and more definite by a repetition of the actions. 
The principal sensation centers involved in the idea of an 
action are the sight centers and the muscular sensation 
centers, although others are included. When the organi- 
zation of these cerebral centers has been carried to such 
an extent that a centrally initiated impulse will be trans- 
mitted through these particular combinations that have 
been traversed before as a result of the perception of 
the action, then an idea of the action will be properly 
experienced. 

Whenever the organization of the action centers, in- 
cluding both motor and sensation centers, has reached 
the condition in which a centrally initiated impulse can 
traverse the sensation centers and result in a clear idea 
of the action, an impulse is already traversing the com- 
bination of which the motor cells constitute a part. Hence 
it is that the idea of an action is the beginning of the 
action itself, and that any clear idea will work itself out 
into action, unless it is positively inhibited. 

A nervous impulse is directed by means of the resist- 



270 THE FEELINGS OF MAN 

ance it encounters, and the brain centers which it trav- 
erses is determined by the degree of resistance that it 
meets. There is no other possible way by which its 
course can be decided. The nervous impulse will follow 
the path of least resistance as inevitably as water flows 
down hill. But resistance is the concomitant of feel- 
ing, and this fact furnishes us the solution of the most 
puzzling problem in all psychology. The action follows 
the idea, but feeling is that element which exercises a 
selective function, and determines whether one idea or 
another shall be entertained. A pleasurable action will 
be performed rather than a painful one, because the ner- 
vous impulse will encounter less resistance in passing 
into the center whose resistance accompanies a pleasur- 
able feeling, than into a painful center. , 

The selective function of feeling is manifested through- 
out the whole range of muscular activity. The conscious 
voluntary actions following upon ideas, are those that 
have survived out of a very much larger series of for- 
tuitous, erratic, purposeless, expressive actions. The sur- 
vival of some forms of action in preference to others, is 
the result of a process of functional selection in which it 
appears that feeling, or its concomitant resistance, has 
been the principal factor. Functional selection is a 
process originating in feeling and its concomitant. Here, 
then, at the very source and origin of voluntary, conscious 
activity, we recognize the importance and all-determining 
character of the process which we call feeling. 

Not merely in the origin of activity, but wherever con- 
scious voluntary activity is manifested, we may discover 
the operation of feeling in its selective function. Feeling 
itself does not determine that an action shall be per- 
formed, but when a condition arises in which an action 
is bound to follow, feeling is the process that determines 
whether the following action shall be one or the other. 
The condition that makes an action inevitable is the con- 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 271 

clition whose concomitant is an idea. Leaving aside all 
circumlocution that contributes to accuracy of expression, 
and seeking only definiteness, we may say that the idea 
is the driving force that leads to action, and feeling is 
the guiding, selecting agency, that determines that one 
action in preference to another shall be performed. 

We thus see that every conscious, voluntary action in- 
cludes in its motive both feeling and idea, and that the 
functions of both are different, but equally essential. 
Since feeling and idea vary independently of each other, 
we shall find the two elements entering into the motive 
in various and varying degrees. This does not prevent, 
however, our discovering the nature of the important 
function that each performs. 

Synopsis. 

1 — There are two theories of the nature of motive. One 
theory regards feeling as motive, and the other considers 
that all actions are motivated by the idea alone. 

2 — Facts are appealed to by advocates of each theory, 
and the arguments of one seem to demolish the arguments 
of the other. 

3 — We have assumed that feelings have been advan- 
tageous to the individual and to the species, and it is nec- 
essary to show how feeling has resulted in benefit to 
society as a whole. 

4 — A nervous impulse is always directed in its course 
by the resistance it encounters, and we have recognized 
resistance as the concomitant of feeling. 

5 — It appears, then, that the idea or its concomitant is 
the driving force, which determines that an action shall 
or shall not be performed, and that feeling is the con- 
comitant of the selective function that determines whether 
one action or the other shall be performed. 

6 — Feeling and idea both appear in the motive, each 
exercising its function, and neither constituting the mo- 
tive alone. 



. 



INDEX 



Advantage of esthetic feelings, 

139. 
Affective process, 11. 
Altruism, 112. 
Ants, 109. 

Antithesis, principle of, 78. 
Apperception, 205. 
Association areas, 180. 
Attention, 190. 

positive, 201. 

negative, 201. 
Awareness, 157. 
Axis cylinder, 53. 

Bagley, 190. 
Bain, 25, 166, 180. 
Baldwin, 66. 
Beauty, 126, 127, 129. 
Bees, 109. 

Bell-Magendie law, 73. 
Binet, 160. 
Brain center, 84. 
Brooks, 142. 

Central theory of feeling, 23. 
Centrally initiated impulse, 4, 

50, 89. 
Children, 40. 

rection time of, 39. 
Chronoscope, 34, 50. 
Chloroform, action of, 49, 174. 
Christian Science, 100, 203. 
Classification of feelings, 105. 
Cocaine, 9. 
Colvin, 190. 



Common theory of feeling, 13. 
Community preserving feelings, 

108, 111. 
Consciousness, 157, 236. 

of self, 252. 
Conscious voluntary act, 257. 
Continuity, 231. 
Consumption, 101. 
Cortex, function of, 22. 
Courage, 113. 
Crying, 75. 
Crying reflex, 244. 
Current, 30, 212. 

strength of, 50. 

elements of, 213. 

Darwin, 4, 66, 75, 78, 247. 

Descartes, 159. 

DeQuincy, 218. 

Dendritic movement theory, 198. 

Dream, 172. 

Dualists, 29. 

Ego, 227, 232, 240. 
Egoism, 112. 
Electrons, 33. 
Emotion, 2, 4. 
End organs, 50. 
Epicureans, 99. 
Esthetics, 125. 
Expression of feeling, 61. 
Expression, determined by re- 
sistance, 66. 
Expression center, 73. 



273 



271 



TI1K FEELINGS OF .MAX 



Faith cure, 203. 

Fatigue, 98. 

Fernald, 219. 

Fear, 76. 

Fear paralysis, 76. 

Feeling, definition of, 1, 10, 12. 

number of, 85. 

center, 85. 

self-preserving, 108, 109. 

esthetic, 125. 

race perpetuating, 108, 118. 

community preserving, 108, 
111. 

moral, 113. 

malevolent, 114. 

religious, 121. 

pseudo-esthetic, 130. 

laws of, 145. 
Feigning death, 77. 
Fissure of Rolando, 68. 
Function of feeling, 107. 
Functions of the neuron, 54. 
Functional selection, 167, 268, 

270. 
Freud, 161. 

Gardiner, 143. 

Glandular expression, 63, 64. 

Goldscheider, 7. 

Growth, 150. 

habit, effect of, 38, 149. 

Haeckel, 160. 

Hall, 181. 

Hamilton, 23, 159. 

Haven, 142. 

Helmholtz, 35. 

Hoffding, 11, 18, 26, 43, 46, 72, 

144, 243, 247. 
Hutchinson, Woods, 100. 



Hypnotism, 206, 208. 
Hypothesis, 27, 45. 

Idea, 259, 268. 

Idiots, 41, 42. 

Imitation, 256. 

Indifference, 97. 

Inhibition, as expression, 70. 

of expression, 18. 

of activity, 65, 70. 
Isomeric change, 32. 
Intellect, 141. 
Interest, 153. 
Intensity of feeling, 87. 

James, 35, 52. 
James' theory, 16, 72. 
Judgment, 238. 

Katabolic change, 216. 
Kinetic will test, 219. 
Knee jerk, 37. 
Krafft-Ebing, 23. 

Ladd, 7, 35, 46. 

Laws of resistance, 48, 49. 

of feeling, 145. 

Weber's, 52. 
Leprosy, 101. 
Loeb, 102. 
Locke, 159. 

Madonna, Sistine, 30. 
Malevolent feelings, 114. 
Marshall, 24, 227. 
Martin, 155. 
McCosh, 259. 
Medullary sheath, 52. 
Memory, 179, 186. 



INDEX 



275 



Mental recognition, 189. 

reproduction, 186. 

ontogeny, 243. 
Mental pain, 93. 
Meyer, 26. 
Meynert, 23. 
Mind, 14, 232. 
Moral feelings, 113. 
Mother love, 118. 
Motive, 257, 259. 
Motive powers, 259. 
Motor centers, 67. 
Morat, 9, 54, 197. 
Miiller, 34. 
Muscular sense, 21. 

expression, 62. 

Narcotics, 172. 
Natural selection, 59, 107. 
Natural classification, 105. 
Negative attention, 201. 
Nervous current, 32, 51. 
Nerve fiber, 53. 
Nervo-motive force, 215, 254. 
Neuritis, 37. 
Neurons, 53. 
Neural habit, 88. 
Neuroglia, 195. 
Nordau, 151. 

Opposum, 76. 

Origin of expression, 74. 

Pain, advantage of, 98, 100. 

Pain sensation, 6, 7, 8. 

Paralysis as expression, 54. 

Parallelism, 29. 

Pearson, 160. 

Peripheral theory of feeling, 23. 



Peripherally initiated impulse, 

50, 89. 
Personal identity, 237. 
Perception of resemblance, 238. 
Perception, 250. 
Philoprogenitiveness, 120, 133. 
Physical pain, 93. 
Pillsbury, 180. 
Pleasure and pain, 3, 92. 
Pleasure-pain, 6. 
Plasticity, 167. 
Positive attention, 201. 
Practice, 38, 169. 
Protagon, 31. 
Pressure of light, 50. 
Principle of antithesis, 78. 
Properties of feeling, 81. 
Pupillary reflex, 37. 
Pure feeling, 43. 
Puzzle picture, 207. 
Psychon, 164, 215. 
Psychology, 241. 
Pseudo-esthetic feelings, 130. 

Radiation, 66, 67, 164. 

Race perpetuating feelings, 108, 

118. 
Rattlesnake, 87. 
Ragweed, 236. 
Reaction time, 33, 34. 

in children, 39. 
Reflex action, 37. 
Reflex, crying, 244. 
Religious feelings, 121. 
Retentiveness, 183. 
Resistance, 46, 47, 91. 
Resistance, laws of, 48, 49. 

nature of, 50, 51. 
Ribout, 23, 35, 46, 92, 144, 199, 

219. 



276 



THE FEELINGS OP MAN 



Richet, 26, 46, 166. 

Romanes, 161. 

Saleeby, 161. 

Saponin, 9. 

Sensibility, 4. 

Sensation, 4, 42. 

Sensori-motor arc, 21. 

Self-preserving feelings, 108, 109. 

Selfish feelings, 110. 

Sleep, 171. 

Spencer, 23, 31, 57, 66, 86, 106, 

137, 144, 160, 181. 
Specific character of feelings, 83. 
Sollier, 25. 

Strength of current, 50. 
Synapse, 195. 
Synaptic membrane, 54. 



Theories of feeling, 13. 
Titchener, 46, 85. 
Tone of feeling, 92. 

Unpleasantness, 93. 
Unconscious voluntary act, 263. 
Utility of expression, 75, 77. 
Utility as beauty, 134. 

Warning colors, 115. 
Weber's law, 52. 
Will, 211. 
Worry, 203. 
Wundt, 35, 160, 197. 

Ziehen, 46, 160. 



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